January just came to a close, but New Year's resolutions are still in full swing. Many students resolved to have fitter, more flexible physiques in 2017. That means the only thing harder than finding a treadmill is booking a GSR during finals week. Some of these gym–ers have got to go. Highbrow nominates these humans:
The senior you DFMO'd with: He's beautiful, brazen and the human incarnation of Hercules. He's dead–lifting 300 pounds and eyeing your 15–pound dumbbells, unimpressed. Highbrow likes doing the judging, not being judged. Boy, bye.
The frenemy who is not–so–secretly obsessed with you: Lindsey is so excited to see you. Third time this week you've run into each other at Pottruck. Weird, right? Lindsey picks the treadmill next to you and peeks at your screen: your treadmill's at 7.0 mph, her treadmill's at 7.1. Lindsey wants to know where your leggings are from, what ab workouts you do and what sports bra you're wearing. Lindsey needs to go home.
The girl squad five treadmills deep: It's cute that you're working out with your friends but less cute that there are five of you—you're all on your phones, and you're all walking. You all probably also get smoothies after 30 minutes in. We go to Pottruck to exercise. You're in our way. Move.
The CrossFit–ers: Sub six feet and compensating, these guys go ham on the second floor and make everyone else look bad. Their desperation to get fit is matched only by their desperation to get fucked. No matter how many times they offer to spot your squats, it's not happening.
The professor: You love his tweed jackets and dry humor, but this sighting is painfully embarrassing. There's a delicate order to the universe, and that involves never seeing your professor in gym shorts.
The bro vs bro basketball–ers: Alright boys, when did cutting the sleeves off your shirts and ripping them down the sides become protocol for entering the court? Save the rivalries for OCR.
