One week to my first Edinburgh show. I can't quite believe how quickly time is whooshing by. Only two previews to go after tonight. Where did all the days go? Tonight a couple of my school friends came along, including Phil Fry who is mentioned in the show and we went out for a couple of drinks. We then had a couple more. It was really lovely to socialise and relax with pals (I have known Phil for about 32 years, which is terrifying), and though I just got a little bit merry, it doesn't augur well for a sober Edinburgh. But it augurs well for a fun one. I am massively looking forward to the Fringe this year.
And I could afford the calories as I'd done a good session at the gym earlier. As always I mainly used the running and cross training machines, but I like to do a few minutes on some of the weights machines. The shoulder press machine is situated on the periphery of the section of the gym dedicated to the serious free weight enthusiasts. The muscly, serious looking men (and occasional woman) who stare at themselves sternly in the mirror as they strain to lift massive dumb bells.
I know that even though I am ostensibly lifting weights that I am nothing like them and feel slightly out of place even being near them. I think of them a bit like the big boys, not in a gay way, but in that way when you were a kid you'd see older children almost as a different species, capable of doing so many things that you can't. And your mum would tell you that you couldn't even try the thing because it was for big boys.
Dabbling in the weight machines is like riding a bike with stabilisers whilst the big boys and doing wheelies and leaps off special jumps and just like in the playground I wouldn't dare walk across into their special area. I leave them to it, as I look at them in awe, struggling to lift my 25kg weights. They are a breed apart.
I am not really jealous of them, as I don't think I'd want to be either that gigantic, that muscly or that serious about exercising. But they are fascinating to watch and it's interesting how different they are from the other gym users, bobbling up and down on step machines and watching TV. None of the big boys watch TV. They are too busy watching themselves. And occasionally helping each other out in a way that in any other context would be seen as homoerotic. But I don't want to get anywhere near calling these scary men gay. Because I have to go back in the gym and sit near to them and they are more than capable of throwing one of the big dumbbells right in my face.
