These things happen to me.
I once had free use of the gym at the educational establishment I worked at. Wasn't the most equipped gym, but the machine room had a cross-trainer, two treadmills, two rowing machines and a handful of bikes of varying antiquity.

Anyway, I used to go with a few people from my office, we'd start with a jog around campus, and on this eventful evening a gent who I was trying to impress who'd just started coming with us was first up on the treadmill. I ended up on the rower, and bided my time until the moment was right and I could get on the treadmill next to him.

The second treadmill was a basic, very old one, with no horizontal bar across. It had moments of unreliability, but to be honest I didn't mind that the best information its tiny LCD gave out was km/h and estimated calories. The other machine gave out heartrate, distance achieved and likelihood of Carole Thatcher incursion.

This particular night, while I was at girly-running full pelt next to him, sweat emerging from every pore and panting like a police dog in Nottinghamshire - the power went off in the gym.

Hunky new bloke described the moment as thus:
"One minute you were running like a spaz, then the lights went really dim, a loud clattering and slapping sound, followed by a thud and when the lights came back on, there was a smear of blood down the wall and you were in a heap in front of your machine."

I broke my nose, glasses and self-respect on that night.
(lunus loves tizer, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 22:56, Reply)