My Life in College: The perils of working out

Moral Mildred/Sun Star Reporter
October 16, 2012

I planned to spend my Tuesday night studying. I have two midterms next week that are going to make me cry. Instead, I was forced to watch other girls undress.

My roommate and I go to the Student Recreation Center six days out of the week to do what she refers to as WTFOYA 2012 (“Work The Fat Off Your Ass 2012″). I usually refer to them as anti-obesity sessions, but the premise is the same. After stepping on the scale one day and being unimpressed, we decided to be proactive about our weight. It’s been a painful and rewarding experience thus far, emphasis on the painful.

I highly recommend going to the gym for many reasons. One, winter is coming and it’s really easy to gain an 15 extra pounds in the dreary depression that is Fairbanks’ winter. Two, it’s a great stress reliever and I read somewhere that exercise actually helps you focus.

The SRC is full of lots of fun ways to make your muscles ache, and the people there are usually non-judgmental, or at least they keep their thoughts to themselves. More importantly, the locker room is a relatively safe place to keep your personal things without fear of them being stolen. In fact, recently my stuff was so safe not even I could get to it.

Earlier this week, my roommate and I headed to the SRC. After walking past the basketball players and praying all the basketballs stayed very far away from our faces, we entered the locker room, changed into clothes we felt better about sweating through and put everything else into a locker. I distinctly remember my clothes being in locker number eight. After our workout locker number eight had a nice, little lock on it.

We both thought that this was super unfortunate, since the lock belonged to neither one of us. We then checked every other locker and talked to the the lovely young lady at the front desk. We discovered that we had two options. We could wait in the locker room for someone to come realize their mistake or harass every female in the SRC until someone owned up to it. We picked the option that probably wouldn’t get us arrested, picked a bench in the locker room and immediately began to do what I imagine anyone would do in this situation: swear creatively.

My roommate decided she was MacGyver and was going to open that lock with a bobby pin. So we searched the floor of the locker room and picked up any pieces of metal we could find. We found a single bobby pin.

After aging a good 10 years, I stopped being frustrated with the situation and defaulting into my normal state of being: really bad jokes. While my roommate still fuddled with the lock, her actions peppered with some not-so-very-nice words, I mentioned to her the possibility that the owner of the lock was some ninety year old woman. If that was the case, we wouldn’t be able to be angry at her because she survived the depression. My roommate giggled a bit, and turned around to give me her, “You’re IQ is probably low” look, when in walked an elderly lady. Three guesses to which lock her key went to.

The woman was very nice and apologized for mistakenly locking the wrong locker. As it turns out, she had put her stuff in the locker next to ours but after closing the locker door she accidentally put the lock on the wrong one. We thanked her for unlocking it, assured her it was no big deal, grabbed our stuff and left.

So I guess the moral of the story is this: if you don’t lock your personal items safely into a locker at the SRC, someone else might. This will probably not make you a happy bunny. Also, your roommate is probably not MacGyver.

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