An Eventful Work-out Session

I went to my new gym yesterday. It was day two and I almost had to quit. I have a peculiar phobia of fans and the new gym has the largest fan I have ever seen in my life. It's like a helicopter propeller. I mean BIG. I don't really know what provoked my fan phobia, but I have always been scared of them. As a child, I would worry that the blades were going to fly off and chop me up in little pieces. To this day, a twirling fan makes me very anxious. Lucky for me, the fan was whirling about in a fairly slow motion. I was okay. If it would have been going any faster, I would have had to quit the gym (or risk being chopped up in little pieces).

I stayed strong and got busy on the treadmill. A couple of machines down, a chunky guy climbed up on a treadmill with a personal trainer by his side. A few minutes later, the chunky man had dropped to his side, arms flailing about, treadmill still going. I'm pretty sure he was making some kind of noise, but I couldn't hear him because my music was so loud. The trainer ran to his side and helped him up. I immediately turned my head, swallowed as hard as I could, and bit my tongue, attempting to control my laughter. Every female in my family has this problem - we laugh when people get hurt. It sounds awful, but it isn't because we think the injury is funny. It's the actions leading up to the injury and the reaction of the injured person that is funny. Either way, chunky guy was fine. And I got a good laugh.