Speaking of Play Lists

So the other Saturday night I went to the gym to run again. (All this running is going to kill me.) It was about 7:00 so it was dark and cold. When I arrived there were only 2 other people in the place. However, they both left before I had a chance to fire up the treadmill.

I was all alone.

In general I don't mind being alone. But like I said it was dark and cold and that makes everything kind of creepy. Then the main lights went off. Sure, the back up lights were still on but now everything was dim and shadowy which only enhanced the creepiness.

Not wanting to get off the treadmill but wanting the lights to go back on I started waving my arms over my head in an attempt to trip the motion detector. That's when I noticed my reflection in the windows. All that running and flailing around. Not sexy.

I stopped waving.

I started worrying. Unreasonable. Irrational worries. What if someone is hiding in the bathroom just waiting to junp out and get me? What if someone sneaks up behind me and bashes my head in with a weight? What if someone shoots me through the windows I'm running in front of? What if I have a heart attack and die in here by myself? What if. What if. What if.

So I'm sick. Big surprise. But my overactive imagination was being fueled by stress, lack of sleep and Jon's IPOD play list. (No, I still don't my own yet. I hate being poor even more than I hate running if you can believe it.) Which means I'm at the mercy of Jon's music selection.

As thoughts of homicidal gym rats raced through my head I realize I'm listening to that old Bonnie Tyler song "Holding Out for a Hero" (you know the one..."he's gotta be strong and he's gotta be fast and he's gotta be larger than life...") with all the heart beats in the background and the insaino back up singers with all the scary OOOOOO's and AAAAAAA's.

Not so good for my jumpy nerves. I skip to next song.
Pat Benatar, "Hit Me With Your Best Shot". Nope. Skip again.
Kenny Loggins, "Danger Zone". No way. Skip again.
Europe, "The Final Countdown". Not even.

Whew! Bon Jovi, "It's My Life". Finally something that won't make me think I'm about to be plundered. Oh wait, what's that he's saying? I aint gonna live forever?

Skip.

Between all the messing around with the IPOD, looking over my shoulder for serial killers, and that crazy arm pumping action I'm tripping and stumbling all over the treadmill. Which makes me think I should be more concerned with breaking an ankle than with murderers.

As this thought dawns on me a dude walks into the gym. I'm not alone anymore. With death narrowly averted I finish my run and head out to the car. Where I start to think..what if someone saw me in there alone and is now waiting in the mini van to slay my sweaty self?

I open the door, check for crouching tigers (seriously I'm mental), get in and turn on the van where I am greeted (no lie) by the Police. "Every step you take, every move you make I'll be watching you."

No more night time visits to the gym for me.