THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, January 15, 1995 TAG: 9501130058
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY KERRY DOUGHERTY, STAFF WRITER
LENGTH: Medium: 61 lines
CANDY WRAPPERS under the treadmill. M&Ms scattered around the Stairmaster. A line forming at the Universal gym.
Must be January.
A collective moan is going up from physical fitness buffs around Hampton Roads as they struggle through the worst month of the year: January. For those first few weeks of the New Year hope springs eternal and every delusional person flirting with cardiac arrest is heading to the area's workout rooms, gyms and YMCAs.
Life is miserable for the regulars. Aerobics classes are packed, elbow to dimpled elbow. In the gyms there are long lines and infuriating waits for equipment. Even the locker rooms are jammed and all the lockers are taken. Forget trying to park your car; most of the lots are at capacity.
Say hello to those irrepressible New Year's resolution folks. As sure as the swallows return each year to Capistrano, these couch potatoes waddle to the gym each January.
It's easy to spot these newcomers and it has nothing to do with their girth.
They're the ones in fresh-from-under-the-Christmas-tree warm-up suits. (One of my friends swears she saw pine needles sticking out of some man's tight-fitting, colorful polyester jacket.) They carry personalized water bottles. Or better yet, they wear gold-toned Evian holsters. They bring their own hand weights in pretty pastel colors. Their running shoes are unmarred by contact with pavement and unable to move faster than a saunter.
They set the treadmill at crawl speed, then shout for help when they can't get it moving. They bench press the bar with no weights on it. They can't catch the rhythm of the stair-climbing machine. They can't figure out how to adjust the resistance on the Nautilus equipment. Over on the mats these neophytes are still doing flat-back sit-ups and jumping jacks.
But as those who have been working out for more than a decade know - it's just a matter of time. Showing all the resolve of Iraq's elite Republican Guard at the first burst of gunfire, these dilettantes will be gone by Groundhog Day.
Yes, Feb. 2 marks the unofficial deadline for the disappearance of the New Year's Resolution mob. Maybe they wake up, see their large shadows and decide to go to Burger King instead of the gym. Maybe they pull a muscle and decide to stay home for a day or two or three.
Maybe they surrender to a CNN crew.
Who cares.
It is a fact that in a few short weeks life in the sweatshops will return to normal. The diehards in tattered salt-stained work-out gear will have the places all to themselves. Good old body odor will replace the aroma of Giorgio perfume. Stairmasters will be open with no waiting. Stationary bicycles will not be moaning under unaccustomed weight.
It's getting better already.
Just the other day one man reported spotting a woman with one of those fancy gold Evian holders. Gone was the French designer water. In its place was a bottle of Yoo Hoo.
Now if she'd just find somewhere else to drink it. by CNB