Greatest Day At The Gym Ever

Well, I should clarify that. I had the greatest day at the gym ever if you don’t include the times I’ve spooged in my shorts while watching the college chicks bounce up and down on the stairmasters. Funny how the attendant frowns at you when you have your hand down your shorts.

Today was a chest day. For some reason I find chest, back, and shoulder days to be my favorites, something about lifting heavy weights and feeling the ache the next day. Triceps and biceps, while you would think would be prioritized body parts, just don’t excite me all the much. Or it could be that by the end of the week I’m sick of sitting at home at night and might have a slight hangover, not sure which. Doing leg exercises on a surgically repaired knee is slightly more fun than going to the dentist (or shoveling snow or cleaning the bathroom or hitting on fat women, oh, wait…).

So I did a quick warm up, threw on 185 and pumped out a light 12 reps. 205 lbs was a little more challenging, I only managed 7 of those. The true bench press test is 225 lbs (two 45 lb weights on each side). This is one test that the NFL combine uses to gauge the strength of potential draftees. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe the record is something like 47 or 48 reps. That’s a shit load, people. Dwyane Wade (former Marquette basketball player) did 185 lbs 9 times when he came out of college. Comparing a basketball player to football players is like comparing apples to bananas, but I’m just trying to give you an idea here. Back in 2001 I could do 225 lbs 12 times with a one rep max of 300 lbs. One major surgery and six years (and countless beers) later and I can do it 5 times. I was feeling pretty good about it and decided to take a two minute break.

I walked over to the cardio room and see the 50 something lawyer who likes to call me Big Bad Brian.

Me: Hey, how’s it going?

Him: Good, how about you?

Me: Not bad, not bad at all.

Him: Hey, I’ve got some information for you but I’m going to need something in return.

Me: Uh, ok, what is it?

Him: You know our mutual lady friend?

Me: You mean (39 yr-old woman at the gym I’ve mentioned before)?

Him: Yeah. I guess she has a thing for you. Last week she was talking about you but she was afraid she was a little too old for you.

Me: Really? I thought she had a boyfriend?

Him: Not as of just recently. You should to jump at it while the opportunity is there. And let me tell you, with a woman like that, the opportunity won’t be open for very long.

Me: Humph, I’ll have to think about that.

Him: But I need one bit of info from you then.

Me: Yeah?

Him: You have to let me know if they’re real or not!

Me: If I get my hands on them I’ll let you know.

Two weeks ago I was talking to her about how I had little motivation to come to the gym. I was making it two or three times a week and the other days I’d just read a book in my office for an hour. She agreed that it does get a little monotonous doing the same things every week and suggested that we play racquet ball someday. Hmmm, would that be like a racquet ball gym date? I didn’t know what to think of it at the time. Instead of working out and mingling with all the acquaintances at the gym she wanted to spend some quality one-on-one time with me. Well, I don’t know how much “quality” there’d be since I haven’t played racquet ball since grade school and would probably be sitting in a pool of sweat and feces crying in the corner after just 15 minutes, begging the racquet ball gods for mercy. And after that she’d never talk to me again, most definitely not. I can envision her giving me that, “You sick, disgusting, perverted, smelly fuck. I can’t believe I ever associated with a pathetic little shit like you. But I kind of feel bad about your fecal problem” look. At which point I’d run away crapping in my pants once again. (Mental note: bring extra underwear to the gym just in case.)

So I’ll see her tomorrow and start up the general chit chat, maybe bring up the racquet ball thing and see if she’s still interested. Please wish me the best of luck (really, put that voodoo doll down).