This is the First Gym Characters post
The pudgy bald guy wearing Pierre Cardin nerd-style glasses made his way onto the stair stepper. He proceeded at a pace of two miles per hour as I attempted to pick it up a notch on the stair stepper, one exercise machine to his left. I named him Lefty because he kept holding his left hand aloft, while scoping out a hot gal on the treadmill in front of him. I had no gripe with that, since the very blond and fit beauty caught every male eye that was heterosexual.
The initial cough without a hand cover for his rather large mouth gathered my attention, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt and chalked it up as a spontaneous miscue on his part. I figured no one would be so inconsiderate to his fellow members in the workout arena. He couldn’t be so stupid as to think his germs wouldn’t infect another nearby member. Baldelli (that was the name on his jersey) coughed again less than a minute later, and I could see the little devils diving from his ample mouth into the air. I felt them zeroing in on me like the Japanese zero’s to our destroyer’s at Pearl Harbor. Would my antibodies be able to fight these things off? was my immediate concern. As I shielded my face, another blast came at me. The beauty he was checking out in front of him shot back a menacing glance, and Baldelli countered with a huge smile. Over the next ten minutes about five more germ throwers were elicited. I tried to stare him down, but he refused to look my way. I prayed that my antibodies were stronger than his germs, but reasoned his germs must be fighting mad for the sloppy manner in which he treated them.
I hung in there until his workout came to a halt five minutes later, and thankfully watched him lumber off to the lockers; but not before giving the blond beauty a glorious smile in passing. She completely ignored him, and must have wondered if she were already coming down with something. It was not surprising that Baldelli did not wipe off the machine when he was finished. It was as if he wanted the entire exercise world to feel his power.
As soon as I arrived home I fortified my body with enough vitamins to combat the Russian Crud. I devoured a well-balanced meal of baked chicken breast, steamed broccoli, whole wheat pasta with non-fat Italian dressing, lemon tea, and a non-fat granola bar. After my respite, I immediately took my super dog Suki for a short walk, and put myself to bed. The next morning I felt like a champ, and was thankful I had given Baldelli’s unforgiving germs a beating.
Yours in health,
The Fighting Fireman
I do not want to talk about the salty snacks you eat when hungry, but the guy I see at the gym everyday about noon. You could set your watch by this unusual work out guru. The only thing he uses the equipment for is to brace his body for a more intricate stretch. I must admit that now that I’m arthritis riddled, I’m kind of jealous. This eccentric dresser (wears old sweats from the 1950’s exclusively) says not a word to anyone, but rather than go off into the unoccupied gym, he insists on stretching in the middle of traffic, to show off his flexibility. He can literally contort himself into a pretzel, and his elongations become so outrageous that he shows off body parts not really meant to be seen. I mean, the flesh is clothed, but it is still rather uncomfortable being lined up with a split wide crotch, while the same person has their eyes staring you in the face.
No one I socialize with at the gym (virtually everybody) knows his name, but he is definitely not absolute intensity material. All he ever does is stretch himself into oblivion, and never utilizes the machines or free weights. He does break a sweat from his one hour of stretch, and there is not one fiber on his body that does not get elasticized. I’ve yet to see a female approach him, and most make it a habit of taking a detour around his twisted frame. He does switch stretching venues if he wants more company. He’ll curl up to the cable machine like a cat to the couch, and slither around it like a snake on a tree, but won’t utter a word no matter how many human beings he unnerves. Whether he likes it or not, he is known as the health club pretzel man, but you will never find him at Absolute Intensity fitness. Coach Reilly guarantees it!
She arrives daily dressed to kill. The outfits she wears are certified gym wear, but must be form fitted to look that good. Every asset she has is hugged tightly to the spandex lycra material. Her name is Vixen, and I only know that because the male personal trainers always greet her with that name. It is hilarious to watch them falling all over each other, trying to manage a date or a tete a tete. Even the married trainer gives it his best shot. The other trainers rat him out as soon as he is out of earshot. They want her luscious limbs all for themselves, and two almost came to blows, as they tried to outdo one another in the fitness knowledge department. As they continued with their quest to win her affection, a buffed up muscle guy sauntered in, and she made a bee line for the weight station where he planted himself. The battling personal trainers were both baffled and exploited by the pretty red headed beauty who ruined their friendship.
I watched them awkwardly try to rekindle some civility toward one another, while their prize zeroed in on the muscle guy. This would never have taken place at absolute intensity because our trainers (my wife and I) would never permit it. The absolute intensity gym clothing makes even the not so buff look spectacular. I scanned the gym and saw a few other muscle guys making their moves on the sexy gym girl, who didn’t seem too impressed with the original muscle guys teeth and toupee up close.
These morons were making fools of themselves and didn’t realize it. This is what severe bouts of male testosterone does to males, when the sexy gym girl comes to the club. She doesn’t work out, but merely saunters around and stretches provocatively for the mirrors. Thank God for genetics, her parents must be studs.
All hell broke loose when a short fellow named Mario patted her on the butt cheeks, because he couldn’t control himself. Talk about sexual harassment. The muscle guys looked like the gorilla brigade as they chased Mario around the gym. The squatty little sucker had them tripping all over themselves, and made it out of the gym confines alive and running. With my exercise completed I gave the chic sexy gym girl a smile, and made my way to the car, where I caught a glimpse of ten weight lifters furiously trying to chase down a squatty little guy.
By Coach Ace Reilly
The title says it all about this 5′5″ dope who has a personal training
certification. I can’t fathom how clients put up with this idiot in sneakers. He’s
continually right in their space and never gives them an inch to move. Does he
really think he’s impressing other gym members with his in your face, while he scribbles
down notes on an oversized clipboard attitude. I’d prefer to stick needles in my eyes than
exercise with this phony. The most amazing thing is that some of is clients are
with him more than once a week. This has to be pure torture. I’d rather be with
the take back Wall Street idiots than work out with this anal retentive, let alone
have to pay him for the honor.
You know how you know this guy is a great anal retentive personal trainer, just
ask him and he’ll tell you. Then you’ll receive a 15 minute lecture on his life history
in the world of fitness. How he achieved any of these feats of stardom in the body
he owns belies the truth. I saw this excuse for an eyesore when I entered the gym
today and he had a client using the exercise wheel I hadn’t seen in a week. Many
regular members like to use it, and it’s usually in the general population section. (this
club has a special section only for trainers and their clients) I found out rather
expediently why neither I nor any other member had been able to find it. The anal
retentive moronic personal trainer hides it under a stack off rubber mats when he
and his clients are finished with it. This vagabond smiles as exercisers search the gym
for the exercise wheel, when he knows precisely where it is.
I give this wannabe an F as a grade for personal trainer, and F- as a human being
for being so vindictive to the general membership, you can take that to the bank or
to absolute intensity for top of the line personal training. by “The Fighting Fireman”
This middle age weight lifter is living on the edge at the gym.
His doo rag is closely cropped to his bald head. Why would you even wear
a doo if you are bald? A baseball cap I could identify with, but the doo rag
is totally out of character for this middle age gym buff. I am not implying that
he looks buff, because that is far from the case, but as long as he is comfortable
with his muscles, that is what counts.
I’ve seen more doo rags than I’d rather witness at the local gym, and I’m
assuming this coincides with the change in our culture. When I was in my teens
I never saw a doo rag. I witnessed a member questioning Mr. Doo about his
rag and he went ballistic. For a guy who seemed mellow and mild, he does not
want anyone to question his style of head gear. After ranting at his questioner
for ten minutes, while heaving about any weight he could get his mitts on, Mr.
Doo Rag straightened out his Doo Rag and went about his exercising, as if nothing
had ever happened. I’m chalking it up as the power of the doo rag, it is here
to stay!!!!! Comments are welcomed about Mr. Doo Rag, by Coach Reilly
I like a protein shake to aid in my recovery because it is essential
to provide an ounce of protein for half your body weight, to aid in muscle
cell reparation. One member at my local gym borders on the absurd when
working out, by constantly grunting and posturing between sets, and drinking
a shake while resting. He is always asking for spots and makes a big production
before each lift. He’ll put on wraps, attach chains to the olympic bar, and scan
the gym for pretty women to watch his lift. He’s a big guy but soft in the belly,
and his large round glasses makes this buffoon look like Mr. Peabody from
Rocky and Bullwinkle.
He’ll let out an ear shattering roar as he does his lift, and without the assistance
of the spotter, wouldn’t achieve one repetition. He’ll load on four hundred pounds
and stalk around the entire gym as if the weight of the world is on his mighty
shoulders. When he finally get’s down to the business of the actual lift, after consuming
3 protein shakes, attempting to force autographs on members, hitting up the hot
women, and blowing out some organic farts, the spotter is forced to do all the work.
For the poor spotter it is like doing upright rows with four hundred pounds, and he
is exhausted after the set.
While the spotter is attempting to catch his breath, Peabody will ask in a loud auspicious
roar if he helped him much on the lift. Being a nice guy, and not wanting to get close
to this organic fart machine, he nods and says “all you big guy”. Peabody will tell everyone within
earshot, whether they want to know or not, that he needs to suck up another shake
in the locker room. His bowupright rows,peabody,four hundred pounds,organic fartlegged walk to the locker room is with arms and back flexed in the form of
a neanderthal. The fact that he works out daily and does the same routine is of no
consequence to this species, who innundates himself with protein shakes.
by Coach Reilly
I never wanted to wear any kind of head covering in the gym because it
holds the heat in, and I was always working my behind off. In technical terms, I wanted
to let the pent up temperature out, so I could cool my body. This is why we have
sweat glands. I know many individuals despise sweat, even when they’re working out,
but isn’t this why we engage in exercise in the first place. To look better and clean out our
system from the inside out. There is no more efficient way to get rid of bacteria, than from
pushing it out from the inside.
This is why I’ll never understand the gym hat explosion. Some guys will even wear
ski caps and work out. I mean it could be 90%’s outside and 75 in the gym, but certain
members will wear a tank top and ski cap. What is the deal!? It looks downright ugly, but
it doesn’t faze the particular individual. To him he is the Don Juan of the gym, and the coolest
looking guy in the universe.
Yesterday, I noticed a 30 year old blubbery guy wearing his baseball cap backwards,
while he sweat profusely on the stationery bike. This was an uncanny sight to behold, but he
strutted around when finished as if he owned the joint. I know baseball players wear the caps
when they play, but more often than not they are not sweating like a stuffed pig.
The newest headgear for fitness buffs is the fashionista hat. This is what women wear
when they want to look cool for a photo, and strut into a chic club for a night on the town. It
makes no sense to wear while you work out , but than again, the individuals I see wearing this
newest element in exercise fashion, do little exercise and never perspire. It makes as much sense
as wearing shorts down to your knees, but that is a story for another day. Despite the fashion changes,
I’ll continue my treks to the gym hatless, but I much prefer the “cat in the hat” to “the hat at the gym”.
by “The Fighting Fireman” please leave your comments for the world
The two thirty something local gym members were to body building
like Lady Gaga is to eclectic fashionista’s. I noticed young ladies trying not
to pay them any mind, but you knew they were taking quick glances just as
I was. Both of their physiques were ripped to shreds, and the more menacing
of the duo’s deltoids were so enormous the muscle came to a point on top of
The fact they wore string tank tops, with form fitting spandex trunks
from the bulldog gym, added to their attention grabbing look. They kept to themselves
for the most part, but were quick to give advice when a few of the younger
members asked them how they got to look like they did. Wannabe muscle heads
admired the way they pushed each other with the assisted repetitions, and some
heads would turn when voluminous, gut wrenching grunts were unleashed.
The only people impressed by their onslaught were the youngsters and
a few pretty women who were attracted to the extremely ripped and muscular
look. I admired their discipline but the lifestyle wasn’t for me, when I overheard
the diet which they forced upon themselves. I was always one who refused to
weigh my food and count the grams of protein I consumed each meal, and divide it
by the energy I expended. If you’re an introvert I guess everyone would like to be
a health club attention grabber, and they made sure they garnered as much as possible.
Besides the skimpy outfits and out of the ordinary physiques the dynamic duo
decided to enter the fully enclosed glass class room, and strip off their shirts for a pose down.
I imagine both had a contest coming up because they went at it like Obama against the
Republicans. The contorted faces and bulging muscles were surreal and if anyone in our
gym said they didn’t notice, or take a peak, I’d label them a bigger liar than a politician.
My workout was finished, and the time just flew, by thanks to the health club
attention grabbers. I hope I see them at the gym soon because they seem like nice
guys and relieve the stress and monotony of a workout. by “The Fighting Fireman”
I was feeling good after torturing myself with 40 minutes of cardiovascular conditioning that left me sucking for air and saturated in sweat. Luckily, I had on my sublimation wicker wear Absolute Intensity shirt for maximum cooling and comfort. The form fitting white shorts were not of the wicker wear variety. However, they were form fitting, so I didn’t feel like a geek.
I situated myself on the ab-crunch apparatus and set the angle at an 85% crunch. If not familiar with the terminology, this means my upper body was bent slightly forward. The longer the lever, the more difficult
the exercise, but with my severe hip arthritis it feels like I am sticking needles in my side when I’m at a full ninety degrees. I finished my third set of twenty-five with 140 pounds of resistance and was holding the last repetition for ten seconds, as is my norm.
As I came up slowly from the hold position and finished my repetition, a trainer was standing over me. The kid looked to be between 20-30 years old and possessed a good physique. He began to lecture me as to how I was too hunched over on my last repetition and he recommended the double crunch machine nearby for everybody. Without knowing my background or what my goal was, medical condition, or knowledge and experience in the field of fitness, he gave me a brief introduction to abdominal conditioning.
Rather than explain myself to him, I thanked the young buck for his advice and went about my business. He did introduce himself and gave me a fist bump, and when I proceeded to the machine he recommended — which is my normal routine — he gave me an “I told you so” approval.
I was going to do today’s story on another character who kept giving me dirty looks, but decided to go with this one because I want to point out how this particular trainer should have handled the situation. I surmised the reason he targeted me could be any of the following:
1. He wanted to show off his fitness knowledge.
2. He thought I might hire him to train me.
3. Was told by management to mingle with the members.
4. Wanted to introduce himself.
5. Thought I was a stupid old fool who was going to hurt himself!
I want to digress and mention that my fitness classes have been featured on the Today Show, Fox Five News and Good Day New York. I’m also an international presenter and have taught the most dynamic abdominal classes at spas and gymnasiums across the country. Now I’ll explain what this trainer should have done.
The first thing you do is to ask an individual what their goal is. Members use machines for different specifics and may be working something other than what you might think. That was the first thing I always asked a member, and I only interrupted if I thought they might hurt themselves. If you have a specific recommendation about an exercise or apparatus that works for you, ask the individual if they mind if you give them a recommendation about an exercise they might enjoy. Never assume you know more than the next person because you might end up looking like a fool.
Member and character tip from The Fighting Fireman.
I don’t enjoy having headphones in my ears when I’m exercising at the health club because I’m working too hard and they always slip off. I don’t know how people can concentrate when having to worry about about plugs in your ears, but I don’t mind listening to the melodies they pipe through the speakers, as long as they change the tapes once in a while. Today was a bad day for me at the gym because I was in the middle of my cardio routine when a young woman stepped up on the mountain climber adjacent to my stair stepper.
She was averaging one step per thirty seconds while I was sucking wind at ninety percent of my maximum heart rate and I was forced to listen to her gab uncontrollably on her cell phone. I mean, she didn’t come up for air and was talking as if she couldn’t be heard at a heavy metal concert. She had no concern for those working around her and I was wishing I might be two feet closer to her machine so I could drip sweat all over her red leotarded-covered body. The local television screens reminded members to be polite of others working out around them by turning off their cell phones, but failed to hinder the gossipy, self-centered, one mile an hour mountain climber.
To make matters worse, she finished her conversation just as I’m done with my self immolation workout. She cheerfully went about her day without anything more than her jaw bones being worked out and a needed charge for her cell phone.
***Please send in any stories you might have
concerning characters at your local health club.