I’ve decided not to enter the 2014 Mr. Olympia Contest. I gave it a lot of thought, talked to Arnold, and decided to let it go. However, that doesn’t mean I don’t head to the gym anymore. I like to go, think about working out, look at the free weights and machines, and then do about seven hard minutes on the elliptical trainer. Then it’s chocolate milk and maybe a couple of doughnuts to hasten my recovery.
There are characters at the gym. One of my favorites is the guy who grunts and shouts and drops weights when he’s finished a set. I have noticed that these guys only grunt and shout and huff and puff when females are present. Maybe just a coincidence.
I tend to avoid mirrors for obvious reasons, but there are plenty of Mirror Men at the gym who can’t help themselves, flexing and prancing and grimacing. When they’re through, the gym attendant has to come by and get the kiss marks off the mirrors.
Others perform a couple of half-reps in the machine, stay seated there, then chat with friends before their next set. This ties up the equipment, but at least I give them credit for being at the gym. These people are usually my age or older. I don’t have the heart to tell them to move on; besides, it gives me an excuse not to perform that particular exercise.
And those are just the men who work out at my gym. The women are a whole different category, as always. So I’ll write about them later. Right now, I hear the refrigerator calling.