The Gym, Part 2

I am not a fragile person. If you bump into me while walking down the street, I'm not going to break in half. I lift weights and lug around a 20 pound purse 12 hours a day, so it's not like I'm some weakling who doesn't know their limits.

However, the Korean personal trainer I met at the gym last week was absolutely NOT having it. That guy took one look at me and decided I was some sort of liability, because for the next 90 minutes the man would not leave me alone.

When I stepped off the elevator from the changeroom to the 7th floor workout area, Dilbert was the first person I saw (please note that Dilbert is probably not this man's actual name, but it's the most irritating name I could think of, so it's sticking for now). He was sitting in the far corner talking with a patron before bouncing up to greet me.

Dilbert didn't speak much English, but he motioned to me and said something resembling the word 'weights' so I shook my head and pointed to the treadmill machine. Then I smiled and said 'thank-you' in Korean, meaning: 'alright bud, I can take it from here'.

But apparently we weren't quite finished, because Dilbert followed me to the treadmill and insisted on demonstrating how to use it. He pointed to each of the buttons and did different hand motions that (I assume) were meant to help me understand what to do. About 5 minutes later I was able to start running. Dilbert reluctantly walked away with a truly concerned expression that looked like he was thinking, "Um, I don't know...should I leave? Will she be okay?".

Ah, alone and exercising at last...it felt great! Plus all the treadmills and cardio machines face a huge glass wall giving a wonderful view of the city at night. I couldn't have been happier. Until I noticed a distinct reflection in the glass, pacing back and forth behind me. Wait - is that Dilbert?! Stop watching me and go away already! What is up with this guy?!

I was only slightly distracted for the rest of my run. But when it was time for some weights, things went downhill. For the next 45 minutes Dilbert followed me around the weight room, making dramatic hand gestures and demonstrating when he felt I needed to change my form or improve my grip. That was pretty annoying.

But then there was the weight adjusting.

Every machine I visited, regardless of the weight I would select, Dilbert would literally crouch down (just as I was starting) and adjust the machine to some ridiculously low number that a 10 year old could lift. At first, I would wait for him to walk away for a minute before changing it back, so as not to offend him; but as my irritation grew, I started to do it right in front of him.

I'm not really sure what was up with Dilbert that day, but I haven't been back to the gym since my first visit. I'll be back tomorrow though, and I'm curious to know how he will handle my reappearance. I'm hoping he just loses steam so I can get back to my preferred method of exercise: the independent kind.

Either that, or Dilbert and I are going to have to have a little talk.