Everyone has a system about going to the gym. Mine was simple. I’d go once a quarter to remind myself why I hated the gym. Then something happened. Now I’ve gone to the dark side.
It’s not that I have a childhood story about how I got a barbell dropped on my head, although some have chosen to use this as an explanation for some of my more peculiar habits. I didn’t have some philosophical issue with lifting weights, or some aversion to hard work. I just didn’t like it.
My idea of the weight room on a typical afternoon is a bunch of muscle-bound tough guys walking around, flexing.
“”Yo. I may not be able to put a shirt on in the morning without help, but I can squish you like a bug.””
My other problem with the gym is how obsessed people are with how they look. The weight room over at Canyonview was obviously designed with this in mind. True, there are only about six machines, and if it weren’t for the high ceilings, you might wonder if it were an oversized closet, but hey, they’ve got four full-sized mirrors.
“”So man, you here to work out?””
“”Nah dude. Today’s my off day. I came here just to look at myself.””
Running on the treadmill over there the other day, I was forced to stare into one of these mirrors, and it pretty much ruined my run. For some reason, watching myself running on the treadmill made me think of 50 Cent in his “”In Da Club”” video, and I couldn’t stop laughing at myself. It was all I could do not to say, “”Go shorty, it’s your birthday,”” but thankfully I managed to avoid that embarrassment.
This started when my roommate drugged and brainwashed me, and before I could protest, I was at the gym. The embarrassment I dreaded, being a nonlifter walking into the house of buff confronted me when I got ready to try the bench press.
“”Okay,”” I asked half-seriously, “”Do we really need the weights? I think the bar is heavy enough.””
Once the weight was on, and after the first time or two when the bar practically crushed my ribcage, I started to get the hang of it. I actually started to like lifting.
I keep telling people that the only reason I’ve gone back to the gym four times in the last five days is due to the fact that I’ve got all this excess energy because the IM sports haven’t started up for the quarter. But that’s not the complete truth.
I kind of enjoy finding muscles I didn’t know I had before. It’s like finding a five-dollar bill in a pair of pants you haven’t worn in a while.
I expect you all to stop me if I ever get to the point where I can’t put my shirt on by myself, but for now I’m just going to enjoy having a little muscle to flex.
Which way to the beach?
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