Each year
millions
upon
millions of
us, like
lemmings,
venture into
today’s
version of
the torture
chamber,
more
commonly
referred to
as “The
gym”. Or for
the more
genteel, the
spa, the
club, the
health club
or in some
cases..…’my
workout
place.’ No
matter how
you name
these
places, they
are anything
but houses
of pain and
suffering.
I’ve noticed
that people
entering the
building,
generally
have a smile
(although
it’s mostly
forced in
anticipation
of what is
ahead of
them) but
never, ever
do you see
anyone
leaving with
a happy look
or as though
they’ve just
had a
pleasant
experience.
Now, I
always wait
until about
this time of
the year to
get really
geared up
about
exercise. I
know we
should do so
all of the
time, but as
usual I keep
putting this
off until
one day I
look at
myself in
the mirror
and
wonder…”Who
is that?”
Then I know
in my heart
that the
time has
come for the
annual sweat
season. One
interesting
fact…I read
the other
day that
there are
14,000
places to
exercise in
this
country.
This means
places like
I mentioned
above, not
your garage
or places
where you
work in the
yard. It
also does
not include
any place
you are
sweating and
having fun.
Forced
exercise is
not fun.
There are
approximately
22 million
Americans
who are
active
(meaning
they are
alive)
members of
these 14,000
health
establishments.
Now simple
math tells
me that by
dividing 22
million
members into
14,000
places means
that each
place has
the
potential to
have over
1500 folks
in there at
any one time
or another.
Now the
place I work
out in can
hold about
200, so if
those other
1300 show up
to get their
turn on the
Stairmaster
or turbo
jungle gym,
someone’s
going to be
plenty
hacked. It’s
going to be
tighter than
Dick’s hat
band.
However
tight that
is.
Something
would have
to give
since there
isn’t any
way all of
us can fit
into those
buildings at
once. This,
I believe is
the purpose
in the first
place. The
owners of
the health
spas make
the workouts
so hard on
us that we
just don’t
want to come
back and the
majority of
us never do.
Now, I base
this on the
fact that 25
years ago,
pumping iron
wasn’t
nearly as
hard on me
as it is
now. I
believe that
I’m still
the same
svelte
Bronze
Adonis that
I was at
that time,
but with
less hair.
So, what’s
happened
here? Well,
for one
thing the
machines
have been
changed.
Instead of
real heavy
weights that
you could
see. They
have all of
these
machines
which are
hooked up to
electrical
outlets and
computers.
In the old
days, you
could look
at a weight
and tell if
it was 50
pounds or
not. Now,
you get onto
some kind of
a
contraption,
dial in your
expected
weight and
some printed
circuit
board makes
the
adjustments.
My question
is, how do I
know if I’m
getting 50
pounds of
resistance
here? It
seems like
200 to me.
This is like
computerized
slot
machines….no
way Jose,
Tell me they
don’t have
those things
fixed where
you can’t
win as much
as the old
ones where
the wheels
turned. I
trust things
that I can
see. Faith
is fine in
God, but I
need to
actually see
those
weights to
believe
them. This
is all part
of a grand
scheme to
get you in,
pay your
money and
get you
discouraged
enough not
to come back
again.
Another
thing that I
find very
particular
is the fact
that once
I’m there
and really
getting into
the swing of
things…some
25 year old
female in
one of those
exercise
suits comes
in and grabs
the machine
that I’m
going to get
onto next.
Now, picture
this, here I
am 56 years
old, working
out behind a
former
Playboy of
the Month
Bunny type.
What she
looks like
isn’t the
point. It’s
the fact
that when I
get on the
machine she
just got
off, I can
see that she
has cranked
the weights
up to
something
that would
make Mr.
Universe
yell calf
rope over.
Now, most of
us muscular
build older
guys just
hit the
re-start
button and
try to work
our way
though this
same routine
with out
screaming
for the
cardiac unit
to standby.
We, of
course
succeed in
nearly
killing
ourselves
and are too
sore to come
back for
another
month. Which
I think was
the purpose
of the
‘shill’
getting in
the workout
line to
begin with.
What seems
odd to me is
that after
this Workout
Goddess does
2-3
machines,
she
conveniently
disappears
and you
don’t see
her again.
I’m
wondering if
they have
those
mirrors in
the ceiling
like the
casinos so
they can
watch to see
if you are
showing up
too
regularly. I
can see it
all
now…”Look
Boss,
there’s old
Peary back
at it again.
This is his
3rd time
this week.
What do you
want to do
about it?”
Bruno thinks
for a moment
and says
“Send Lola
down and
have her
crank up the
weights on
the toe lift
machine to
500 pounds,
that usually
stops him
dead in his
tracks and
keeps him
from walking
for about 3
weeks.” I’m
going to
checkout the
ceiling next
time I’m
back in
there.
