Golden Sneakers vs. Silver Fins

I am in the race of my life against an elderly woman at the local YMCA.

We have a family membership there, and I work out every Monday afternoon while the kids are at their art/music/play/doesitreallymatter? class.  I have just enough time to sweat out about thirty minutes on the elliptical before grabbing a shower and returning to pick J-dog and V-meister up. Generally speaking, my Monday afternoon drop-off/workout/pickup regimen is a well oiled machine.

Now it seems there is a senior aquatics class  - the Silver Fins - wrapping up right about the same time as I'm heading for the showers, of which there are only three.  And for the past few Mondays, I have had to wait in line for twenty minutes - sometimes more! - while the Silver Fins slooooooooooooowly rinse off.  It puts quite a wrench into my Monday afternoon schedule.

"This week," I told myself, "the game is gonna change."  So on Monday I cut my workout short by five minutes and, with the Chariots of Fire theme song playing in my head,  made my way towards the shower room like a bat out of hell.

Readers, I arrived in the nick of time, just as the first of the Silver Fins posse was inching around the corner.  Breathless and red-faced, I hopped into the center stall, did a quick victory shuffle, and turned the water on. 

But, soft! What hand through yonder shower curtain breaks?

"THAT YOU IN THERE, KAREN?" (One of the heftier, tattoed Silver Fins has violently ripped the curtain open and poked her permed head inside.)

Me, scrambling to draw curtain shut: "Nope! Not Karen! I'll be done in a minute, though, and thank you for respecting my privacy while I finish up!"

Silver Fin: "Oh, I didn't see you sneak in there, hon!  You know, I always take this stall because it's the roomiest.  The gals call it 'Gertie's* stall', heh heh, because it's mine.  You snuck in on me pretty good, there! Well, I guess I'll just sit here for a spell until you're done.  "

The remaining two showers in the room were empty, but Gertie pulled up a stool, planted herself directly in front of the stall I was in, and started humming.

Now, usually I'm in and out in five minutes, but you know I took a forty-five minute shower that day.

(Actually, I just stood under the stream doing a whole lotta nothin' since in my haste, I had forgotten to bring soap and shampoo.)

When, in my estimation an appropriate amount of time had elapsed, I turned the water off and, taking great pains to adjust my towel just so before exiting, waltzed out with head held high and never looked back.

Next week I'll have to truncate my workout by another five minutes to ensure that I cut Gertie off at the pass.  But it's a wash (a WASH!) in the end, on account of all the extra calories I plan to burn in the race.

*Probably her real name