Today everything hurts. And I mean everything.
First my pants didn't fit properly, and now I am incapable of picking up a pen without wincing.
The Oikarinen family has deemed exercise as a critical component of my well being.
These are also the same people who 1) overfed 2) over 'watered' irene to create the current state of being.
Ahem.
I have been introduced to the nuances of Finnish gyms. They are pretty much the same here as in my previous experiences. There are some people who obviously visit them on a regular basis (which is evident by them electing to wear snap-up pants 24-7) and then there are people who come once in a while. I am in the second group, who can usually be found, with wrinkled brow, staring in absolute confusion at the knobs on a 'torso cruncher' machine. Ah yes, before I forget: The gym included in my compensation package is run by a former convict. (Not sure what he did, but he spent considerable time in the slammer.)
So I went to the gym again last night, and reaquainted myself with the joys of inflicting pain at my own pace. Actually, the visit to the sweat house was quite entertaining. Consider how relatively petit I am. Ok, short. (5' 1" with shoes on. And socks.) Now picture that the average Finnish woman is somewhere around 5' 7". (I don't know that for a fact. Just play along here.) Finns are tall. Everyone is tall. This much I know because I need to readjust, at minimum 2-3 knobs per machine each time I sit down to flex a muscle. When I alternate machines I enjoy the discontented sighs of scorn and contempt of the significantly taller women whenever they sit down.
And so it went, a dance of sorts around the rubber-matted floor. More to come after feeding time.
posted by irene @ 6/17/2002 04:27:00 AM
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