July 29, 2007
As I watch Seinfeld in syndication, I’m struck by how much of the show’s humor takes place at the gym. There’s George Costanza as the urninator: “It’s all pipes, what’s the difference?!” You’ve got Elaine Benes feeling up Teri Hatcher in the sauna. And speaking of saunas, how about Kramer’s greatest line, from the hot wooden planks of the steam room: “Whew. It’s like a sauna in here.”
Less comical, but equally silly, is the way some people engage the sauna as a weight loss tool. In fact, dehydration is in vogue. I saw a woman last week wearing the long-sleeved garbage bag that now masquerades as gym attire. The whole arrangement just seems gross.
Similarly, a number of people, generally women, transform style on the treadmill into something life-threatening. I’ll be the first to say that it’s nice to look at a long ponytail bouncing out the back of a baseball cap. Nevertheless, headwear clogs up the body’s main heat escape route, raising the risk of heat exhaustion, or worse.
So here’s the scene from last Friday: It’s Miami. In July. And this guy is walking the free weight area of my gym in shorts, a tank top, and a Ferrari-red ski hat. I’ve seen some wacky getups at the gym before, but I’ve always said that exercise is hard enough without aiming to overheat. Still, to be fair, I must point out that this guy has to be doing something right. He was working out alongside not just one, but two really attractive women.
Now then, I wonder where I can find a ski hat in South Florida …
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Posted by Muscleman
July 22, 2007
Let’s take a look around my gym early on a Saturday morning. You have to figure that the folks showing up before 9 a.m. on the weekend take the activity seriously enough.
We’ve got one guy wearing dark sunglasses, in this windowless gym prone to power failures. Another guy, dressed in a Barney-the-dinosaur purple running suit, is doing squats with his feet spread about a football field wide. A third guy, who got me thinking about this topic, at least looks relatively normal. However, he’s got the seat on his lat row machine set so low that he pulls almost completely with his rear deltoids, not his lats.
Do bodybuilders deserve their meathead reputation? Judging from this sample: you bet. However, none of these guys will ever accomplish anything in the gym. I’d argue that ironically, the guys packing the most beef also possess the biggest brains. At a minimum, the successful bodybuilder has a command of kinesiology, anatomy, and nutrition. Depending upon what’s inside the plain packaging with the Chinese postmark, he’s probably quite knowledgeable about chemistry, too.
On the other hand, within the fitness universe, the biggest dumbbells must be the folks in charge of gym management.
You would think, for example, that I could get in a decent pull-up somewhere in my gym, with three separate pull-up stations to choose from. Well. The first pull-up station is located directly under the indoor running track, so that any pull-up ends abruptly in a collision between skull and concrete. The second station is centered almost perfectly under a long sprinkler head, eliminating the necessary overhead clearance. In the part of the gym with the lowest ceiling, you’ll find the third station. Here, as you reach the top of your pull-up, you have to ram your head through the ceiling tile, reaching peak contraction somewhere in the crawl space. I guess I should just be happy there’s no permanent injury.
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Posted by Muscleman
July 14, 2007
Joe Weider’s 1980’s bodybuilding bible, at 528 pages, gets it wrong for only one single paragraph. Weider points out that while bodybuilders literally carry their sport around with them, they should never under any circumstances wear shirts so tight that the shirts seem painted on. I think Weider’s aim was to discourage lifters from making a mockery of the whole endeavor.
In my opinion, however, if you’ve earned it, you can wear it. I don’t care if your shirt is so tight that when you bend your arms you tear your sleeve – like Schwarzenegger in the movie Twins. I mean, how cool was that?
Then again, the two guys I saw walking along the beach this weekend were absolutely ridiculous. Shirts off, they were undeniably muscular, but not really cut. They displayed clear evidence of gym membership, but also proof of too many Irish creams. Mostly, what made them look big was the way they held a permanent flexed pose as they strolled down the street. They spent so much time looking down at their own bodies I was worried they might accidentally walk into traffic.
In the end, I don’t think this kind of buffoonery - shirt or no shirt - is a reflection on the sport of bodybuilding. I’m pretty sure it’s only a reflection on them.
1 Comment | All Time Nuttiest | Permalink
Posted by Muscleman
July 8, 2007
As a society, we do an excellent job making life easier for those with the greatest need. Handicapped individuals get parking spaces closest to the building. The elderly find reserved seating nearest the subway door. And on any sinking ship, it’s women and children into the lifeboats first.
For whatever reason, civilization breaks down at the gym. The people occupying the equipment and disrupting my workout certainly do not have the greatest need, or at least the greatest desire.
What’s particularly atrocious is the way some people treat the arrival of equipment, like my gym’s new ab machine. I’m getting ready to hit my muscles from a new angle, to add variety to my workout. Yet I find myself fidgeting in place while two women climb all over the machine and giggle like it’s a fresh addition to the playground.
In all kinds of public places, people give up their seats to those more deserving. So here’s my need: to explode my stress, to quiet the noise, to train like a champion today.
Forget the usual gym rules about re-racking weights or proper attire. The number one rule should be: no smiling, grinning or laughing. If you’re engaged in any of those activities, you’re going to the back of the line.
3 Comments | Etiquette | Permalink
Posted by Muscleman
July 1, 2007
I imagine the neat thing about being rich – and I’m talking really rich – is that you can indulge your interests in the extreme. John Travolta pursued his love of flight by earning a commercial pilot’s license, then building a house attached to an airplane hangar connected to a private runway. Steve Wynn’s personal art gallery includes a Picasso worth over $100 million. Likewise, Paris Hilton has a collection of over 1,000 pairs of shoes.
When my career as a swim model reaches its apogee, I’ll be psyched to start furnishing my own personal gym.
Now granted, if I began training by myself, in a space filled with state-of-the-art equipment, I would have substantially less material for this blog. I guess I’d have to start recycling my favorite blog posts.
Funny thing is (funny weird, not funny ha-ha) I’m having to buy things for my current club as if it were my personal gym. Not because I want to, of course, but because most gyms fail to provide even the most elementary tools of a safe and productive workout. Here’s a look at some items in my gym bag:
WD-40: Yes, the industrial lubricant. I carry the smaller spray bottle, and have no problem whipping it out and performing my own gym maintenance. Rusty machines are a workout killer.
Collars: Gyms ought to provide buckets of barbell collars on the gym floor. You’d think just from a liability perspective, gyms would be eager to prevent heavy iron plates from slipping off barbells and flying through the air. I’ve been to gyms that make you check out collars from the front desk, or simply have none available. In any event, I’ll be securing my weight plates and protecting myself from joint or tearing injuries.
Soap: Barbells and dumbbells accumulate germs as fast as the filthiest subway pole. If gyms aren’t refilling the soap dispenser in the bathroom fast enough, at least I’m prepared.
3 Comments | Gyms | Permalink
Posted by Muscleman
