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Streetercise: Saving You Money, Getting You Laid

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I had a membership to Planet Fitness for a solid two months of this year. It was convenient, and it was cheap: $10/month and since I signed up during the post-New Year’s-resolution-abandoning membership slump in February, they waived the registration fee. Positively Broke-Ass approved. But I quit.

Working out in a gym is weird. And unpleasant. Consider the benefits of the alternative:

Streetercise is FREE.
I know, 10 bucks a month isn’t exactly breaking the bank, but come on. That’s a beer or two, and I know we have all been in the “should-I-drink-or-eat-dinner” situation in between paychecks (if you’ve got one) enough that this is no joke. Why drop dollars on something that sucks when that skrilla could be paying for gin?

It’s better for your body.
Most gyms are practically blast freezers '“ every time I would stroll into mine, the temperature change was enough to raise goosebumps that could take out an eye. Your body temperature already drops significantly immediately after spending any time moving rapidly and sweating '“ there’s no reason to artificially chill your person as well. Maintaining a constantly air-conditioned existence, over time, also leads to increased susceptibility to respiratory infections and being a fatass.

I honestly believe working out en plein air makes for more attractiveness overall. Do you remember your freshman roommate, the one you called the human plant? Do you remember how sallow his skin was, how deeply set into his skull his eyes seemed to be from peering into his iMac all day? Constantly staying inside turns people into salamanders. Fact.

Don’t get me wrong: I know that running doesn’t provide a range of activity like what you might find in a gym, but you don’t have to stop there. I was walking on the boardwalk at Coney last week and saw a guy using a bench and a railing to do some intense sideways sit-ups. Be creative!

It’s never boring.
Your mom and Nickelodeon were right '“ being outdoors is way better than sticking around inside. I get enough terrible fluorescent light and boredom at my desk job. And I don’t want to watch reruns of Friends on a T.V. with 20 other people and their shallow panting either. But even if I take the same route I have before, I’ve never been bored on a run: there are new faces in the crowd, someone is getting a couch delivered on the Bowery, a different sport is being played on the field underneath the Manhattan Bridge, there are newly unidentifiable vegetables being sold in stalls on Canal St. I’m sure every city has similarly wonderful pockets of intrigue. Go find '˜em.

Come here often?
The types of people you might meet in a gym are, for the most part, horrifying. There is a fluke dreamboat once in a while, but more often than not it’s either a beefy lunkhead getting off looking at himself jacking weights or the overweight mom of four who has watched a few too many episodes of Biggest Loser that day to not feel guilty about ordering Domino’s again.

People who run outside are sexy. Trust me on this. We’re confident and fit and will probably sleep with you if you are similar. Getting there is easy: rolling your eyes about the tourists in your way to your running bridge of choice is practically a conversation starter if you want it. Gyms tend to be full of workout zombies, plugged into Fox News or Everybody Loves Raymond in order to distract from the misery. Not cute.

So there you have it: quit your gym. But please don’t misunderstand me here – I’m no camp counselor, trying to rally clap everyone into group fitness. But I do know that ribs are delicious and that in order to eat as many of them as I would like to, I gotta sweat a little bit to keep bringing all the boys to the yard. Why not make that as pleasant as possible?

image courtesty of novic via flickr.
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Polina Yamshchikov - Flirt Poor

Polina Yamshchikov - Flirt Poor

Polina is Siberian by way of Alabama, and therefore cannot pronounce "fire" or "iron" correctly but despite this can still woo men with her cooking skills and enormous Russian cheeks. She can usually be spotted on the streets of Brooklyn either yelling into a cell phone in one of five languages or swilling gin at an inappropriate hour of the morning.