The score is now tied.
Kel:1, Jabby:1.
Jabby McJabberson pulled a fast one on me this morning.
I was on the treadmill running sprint intervals, which meant I was increasing my speed every minute for five minutes, then slowing to a walk for two minutes, then staring the whole thing over.
When Jabby spotted me, I was at my fastest sprint near the end of the cycle, which means I was due to start walking in 30 seconds.
Thinking it would dissuade him from trying to talk to me, I kept running well after my full minute of sprinting was over.
I just kept going. Jabby kept going, too...straight toward my treadmill.
"Can't...talk...running...out...of...breath..." I gasped, running at full speed, thinking that would be enough and he'd go away.
I kept running.
He kept waiting.
I ran at full speed for almost three minutes. I ran until I couldn't run anymore. I ran until I felt like I was going to puke.
I had to stop.
This MoFo outlasted me.
He won.
"Wow. You were really going. You should join this track club I go to." Jabby said, launching into the details of his running club, which I've heard 10,000 times before.
The bile rising in my throat, I ran to the trash can to puke.
Jabby then proceeded to tell me about the time he puked after running five miles. Because I care.
Hours later, I'm still not sure if the puke was due to my running too hard or my self-disgust for losing the battle with Jabby.
That guy is good.
But this bitch is about to get better.
The gloves are off.
The problem is, I don't know where to go from here.
Help!!!!
2 comments:
Oh man! I'm in a similar situation at my class where this guy literally launches into entire self sustaining conversations over his psychic abilities and some other really off the wall things. I'm not even sure of his name...
Honestly, I'd snap. The gym is NOT social hour for me. I'd just tell him that I don't appreciate being bothered while I'm working out. Talk about how it's your zen time.
Headphones.
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