The Verdict is In

I know you've been on the edge of your seat about this. So I won't make you wait any longer: I decided against the gym.

For starters, the place is freaking filthy. I mean, filthy. Ever since I picked up pinkeye from the Gold's Gym in Annapolis, I get willied out easily. I found myself really missing my fantastic spa-like gym in Annapolis, Evolutions, and wondered wtf am I paying for here? Really, Evolutions was the greatest place ever. Sparkling clean. All of the equipment was spaced out so you didn't feel like really gross sweaty man was going to sweat on you. As I felt yesterday at the new gym.

Plus I started reading more about bodyweight workouts, and long-term those appeal to me more. Apparently Tyra Banks is working out at some crazy gym where they make you run with old tires and throw sandbags and stuff like that. Not that Tyra Banks is my role model or anything, but in general, I lean towards less is more.

And as soon as my foot is back in action, I'm going to run outside. Why, you ask? Because running outside is 1,000000000 times easier than on the treadmill. I blink and 30 minutes have gone by. On the treadmill it's a fight for anything past 20.

Plus Mrs. Furious reminded me that gym time should be my time. And Peter doesn't want to do spinning, so I can toss the fantasies about us bicycling side by side. I'm not sure why he pays for his membership if he's not going to go, but really that's besides the point.

In conclusion, the $38 a month will be going to savings.

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