September 30, 2007
This week the roof caved in at my gym. Seriously: Wet chunks of ceiling tile were splattered across the floor, and puddles splashed my shoes when I walked from one machine to the next. I decided it was time to at least explore alternatives among local gyms.
At the first gym, I saved myself a tour and lengthy sales pitch by strolling up to the large windows outside and pressing my nose to the glass. My eyes were drawn first to an empty dumbbell rack, and then to the knee-high pile of dumbbells heaped directly in front of it. I had real hopes for my next stop, a well-known national chain. Inside, however, I found equipment so old that the metal was orange with rust, and a general state of affairs not worth the extra drive.
In his bodybuilding encyclopedia, Arnold Schwarzenegger wrote about the primitive state of bodybuilding science during his prime, believing it robbed him of 10 percent of his potential. I also feel only 90 percent complete, though in my case, I’ve been handicapped by a chronic problem with gym quality.
Stuck with my current gym membership, I’m resigned to increasing the amount of elemental equipment in my gym bag.
When it comes to seated pulley rows - possibly the best back builder out there - I’ve got two choices at my gym. I can use an older machine with lousy action but a nice handle; or, I can use the new machine with great action but a handle that’s far too narrow. Of course, the gym has welded shut the link attachment on the good handle so it can’t be moved to a different machine.
| In an attempt to stop the madness, I ordered this handle from a commercial gym supplier. Now I know it’s ridiculous to lug around a five pound piece of metal on back days. Nevertheless, at least I’m one step closer to reaching my full potential. |
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Posted by Muscleman
September 23, 2007
Since no one has risen in defense of the sport of swimming, I guess I’ll just do it myself:
Dear Muscleman,
Though you claim to have spent years as a competitive swimmer, you seem to have missed the most rewarding aspect of the sport – the competition against yourself. As you know, the most important benchmarks in swimming are your own personal best times. You’ve no doubt experienced disappointment after a win, or satisfaction after a loss. There’s a lot to be said for a sport that’s less about the best that can be done, and more about the best that you can do.
Sincerely,
Buoyant in Baltimore
Buoyant, thanks for your note. I think you’re on to something here, but that you’re right for the wrong reasons.
I found a syringe in a gym locker today - a pretty disgusting reminder of how athletics at every level are tainted by performance enhancing drugs. Still, champions distinguish themselves through their mental game - the way they control their nerves and maintain focus - irrespective of suspicions of drug use.
Soon, however, even mental advantages may become obsolete. Take this fascinating article about the drug scandal sweeping the world of classical music. Musicians at every level are getting in shape for auditions and concerts not with steroids, of course, but with Inderal, a beta-blocker. This drug does a near perfect job of shutting off the symptoms of fear, doubt and anxiety.
While the calming effects of this particular drug make it useless in sports, a similar pill that leaves adrenaline glands untouched is surely on the way. With drugs creating artificial results both physically and mentally, the only meaningful measure of success will indeed be your own personal best.
1 Comment | Cardio, Gyms, Motivation | Permalink
Posted by Muscleman
September 8, 2007
I get very nervous when I have to host a dinner party. My fear has nothing to do with the food prep or social anxiety, however. I am simply focused on making sure everyone leaves my house promptly when the party is over.
I have a few tools available to give people the hint. I’m a huge fan of loudly collecting everyone’s plates and silverware, sometimes taking the dinnerware right out of my guests’ hands. I also don’t hesitate to start turning off lights. Finally, there’s something I learned from my father, the best in the business when it comes to killing a party. When all else fails, I just shut off the air conditioner. You’re much better off enduring a little discomfort now than entertaining long into the night.
When I’m at the gym, I feel like a guest at my own party after the dessert has been served. It’s obvious they want me to leave, and for good reason: The success of gym economics depends upon signing up members that never show. What possible good does it do to have someone like me as a member - someone who constantly pushes the equipment to its limits, consumes handfuls of paper towels to wipe off sweat, and runs up the water bill with long hot showers?
To be sure, gym managers have their own ways to give me the hint. They often blast irritating music, though I’ve become fairly immune to that maneuver. They also love having their cleaning crew run the vacuum right next to my bench while I’m doing sets of heavy presses. Today, they unveiled a new tactic: Between a set of squats, they sent an exterminator over to my rack to spray pesticide all along the wall.
2 Comments | Gyms | Permalink
Posted by Muscleman
September 2, 2007
People underestimate the mental soreness that follows from serious training. Just as the anticipation of pain is as bad as pain itself, the mental preparation required for a big lift – or an entire leg day for that matter – is as exhausting as the physical workout.
I know what happens to me when mental fatigue sets in and I start to lose my concentration. I’ll find myself doing presses with an 85 pound dumbbell in my right hand and an 80 pound dumbbell in my left. Or I’ll absent-mindedly load my barbell with a weight unrelated to what I normally use.
Of course, loss of focus is all relative. I had the opportunity this week to watch a fellow member do his best impression of staggering home drunk. What started as a normal walk from one machine to another ended with a sudden stumble, a flailing of limbs, and a water bottle spilling all over the floor.
At this point, you could see the wheels of indecision turning in this guy’s head. Should he compound his embarrassment by grabbing some paper towels and starting to wipe from his knees? Or should he just keep moving and put as much distance as possible between himself and the incident?
I thought to myself that there was actually a third way, an old trick that I learned in the huge, anonymous lecture halls at law school. When the professor picks your name off the roll to answer some obscure question - or you happen to spill your drink all over the gym floor – just turn sideways and stare intensely at the person next to you.
1 Comment | All Time Nuttiest | Permalink
Posted by Muscleman
