Dear old man at the gym: Do not talk to me

This morning I was at the gym.

I haven’t talked about it much on my blog because I don’t want to become an abhorrent fitness wanker (let’s be honest, unless you fell over on the treadmill no one cares about your workout, sorry), but in the last year or so I’d categorise myself as a regular gym-goer. I try to go to a class or for a run 3-5 times a week, and it plays an important part in my daily routine as well as being hugely beneficial to my mental and physical health.

I still eat bad foods, I still drink too much, I still sleep too little.

However life is about balance and going to the gym is my way of trying to achieve that.

I had a yoga class booked, and got there a bit early so I thought do a short run on the treadmill first. Sometimes, exercise is brutal, but this morning I felt good, like I could have carried on going. After yoga (which was painful and hard, I’m definitely not built for flexibility) I decided to go back and see if I could do a 5k.

To be terribly boring for a moment (please feel free to skip this bit), when I first started jogging, I used to go at a pace of around 7.5-8km/hr, which isn’t fast but it’s moving. When I did my first ever 5k, it was at a steady pace of 8.5km/hr, which I was pretty fucking chuffed with at the time.

Since then I’ve tried to up my pace a bit to start and see if I can knock a few seconds – or even minutes – off here and there. My best time for a 5km is just over 33 minutes and I can do the first mile comfortably in just under ten. It’s not exactly gold medal winning stuff but if you’d have told me last year, when I was struggling to get past week six on couch to 5k, I’d never have believed it was achievable and I’m proud of myself for sticking to it.

Sorry about that – back to today.

2km down, five to go and I was aiming for a pace of not less that 9.5km/hr which when you’re legs are as short as mine is not easy, I can tell you.

I listen to podcasts when I run – Drunk Women Solving Crime is a particular favourite – but annoyingly I’d forgotten my earbuds which were sitting on charge at home. Incidentally, the first time I ever managed to do a 5k run without losing pace was when I’d forgotten to bring my earbuds with me. I think it was that I was so bored, I just wanted it over ASAP so I kept going. I felt similar today.

1.5km into my second run, an older guy – probably in his mid-late 70s – wandered up to the treadmills.

There are about ten machines, and only mine was in use, so OBVIOUSLY he chose the one directly next to me.

This is the pinnacle of Bad Gym Etiquette (similar to urinals, so I’m told) but I didn’t say anything because I’m not needlessly combative, and I was still going for my personal best. I was in the zone and thought I could happily just ignore him, which I did for a minute or so.

Except, he then turned to me and started talking at me about the state of the parking. I didn’t respond, because I WAS FUCKING RUNNING, and he carried on talking. I then turned around to him, still running, and told him ‘don’t talk to me’ which was about as much as I could get out – after 2km I wasn’t exactly furnished with the breath required to make a longer speech.

He laughed, and carried on with his walk. A few minutes later, he tried to say something else about the gym and I ignored him entirely.

At the 3.5km mark I gave up and headed to the changing rooms.

I was really annoyed; I could have done the extra 1.5km and, even if I’d have slowed quite a bit, I suspect I would have beaten my previous time. But it was just awkward and horrible. He ruined my run and I was pissed off.

If I wanted to talk to people whilst running, which I absofuckinglutely do not, I’d join one of those running clubs that runs to the pub, because at least you get to go to the pub after you’ve endured the hell which is running while talking to people.

And the kicker is that I’m almost entirely sure that his perception of the interaction was that I was rude, because for some reason we’re conditioned to believe that if you talk to a woman then she needs to be polite back to you.

I talked about this on my Facebook page, and of course there were one or two predictable comments – all, I probably don’t need to add, from men (albeit a tiny minority):

It’s such utter bullshit.

Of course, the guy is probably just lonely. He wasn’t being a creepy pervert or anything as far as I’m aware – I’m sure that’s a lot worse. He wasn’t coming on to me or being inappropriate, he just wanted to chat. I didn’t have my earbuds in, after all. My bad.

Maybe he doesn’t have family and he’d not spoken to anyone in a week. Maybe he goes to the gym because it’s free on the NHS, it’s a bit of social contact, and he doesn’t have anything else going on in his week. And that’s awful. It must be really bad for a person’s mental health to be in that kind of situation.

But, as I said right at the start, my exercise is important to my mental health.

Life is relentless. Parenting is hard. Going to the gym is the one thing I do, for me, to ‘fill up my own cup’ and stop me being a bitch to everyone. I’m not a therapist, and I don’t want to spend my precious ‘me time’ talking to entitled old men who think that their conversation is more important than the exercise I’m literally doing right at that moment, even if it’s outwardly harmless.

And yes, this particular story is a one off, but let me assure you that this kind of thing happens all the time – it’s happened to me at the gym previously, on the bus, waiting for public transport and it’s never, ever welcome.

I genuinely don’t know where I’m heading with this other than just a sense of general exasperation, and a commitment to teaching my kids (particularly, sadly, my daughter) that their comfort is important. If a stranger talks to them, and they don’t want to talk back, they don’t have to respond at all. Women shouldn’t need to take earbuds with us everywhere as a barrier. We should be allowed to exist and move freely and do what we want without being disturbed, and when we say no or ignore conversation, that should be the end of it.

We don’t owe anyone conversation, smiles or even politeness.

Manners may cost nothing, but they could cost you your personal best.