Follow The Money

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.