Last night I had the following wholly internal experience while finishing up my work out. I’m not proud of it, I just happened to write it down this morning.
I could read his mind: duck, uppercut, jab. Move your feet. Is anyone looking at me? How is my hair? Move your feet. Duck, cut, jab. Please be looking at me, somebody, anybody. Shit, I was that somebody, anybody, and we made eye-contact. And it was awkward. Jab, jab, jab.
|Thirsty? I have no arms,
what is your excuse?
Prior to the awkwardness, I was like, “man he is cool.” He was jabbing and jiving and cutting and punching, and between his thoughts I am sure he was like, “man I’m cool.” I wasn’t the only one watching him have a go with the punching dummy, the entire Virgin Active stretching room kept one eye on the top of their knees and the other on him. Part amusement, part confusion. So there really are people that use that rubber punchy thing.
At one point in my life I wanted to be a boxer. It’s not that I didn’t have any opportunities. I failed to jump at the chance during Bengal Bouts, and there was nothing really stopping me. I’m top heavy, I guess. Or maybe I’m just a wimp. Since then, I just assumed boxing was a passion I avoided because I am not a big fan of repeated punches to the face.
I always thought it was so cool that during a bout, boxers had a “ring man.” They did everything for the fighter: rub their shoulders, give them a pep talk when they were down, provide a spit bucket, cut their face off when needed, and even pour water mostly into their mouths. I mean you must be pretty important to have something like that in your corner.
|Slide the chicken down your
Well, in that moment of awkwardness, I think I figured part of it out. Halfway through a V-up Roll-up (i.e., not a crunch, but something mysteriously close to a crunch Mr. Horton ) I was like, I can’t believe I was like “man he is cool,” and he was like, “man I am still cool,” until I was like “whaaaaaa?” Yea, he went to grab his water bottle and looked like a dog trying to pick up a Frisbee with gigantic paws. He dumped water everywhere but down his throat hole. It was hysterical. Opposable thumbs are no help when you restrict them, buddy. The entire training room snickered.
Ah ha! That is why a dude in the corner splashes water into your face, because you can’t do it yourself jabby guy. At that point, I looked the kid in the eye, grabbed my water bottle, and hydrated the hell out of myself. Thirsty? Rocky Five sucked. Stay down for the count. I laughed so hard my insides hurt. With that, I considered my ab routine done.
If you get annoyed by certain types of people at the gym, take a look at this article by Patrick Hruby on ESPN. Hysterical! (Thanks for the link Mr. Jimbo)