The Gym

I go to an Olympus Gym. Take a Washington Sports Club and put rips in the benches and the machines, take out all decent cardio equitment and add ones that are a decade old, take the heavier dumbells and bend them a little bit, take out the drink refridgorator and replace it with a cooler, make one water cooler that needs to be pressed a certain way to work and needs a bucket underneath it to collect leaking water, make sure everything is rusty and very dirty, and make sure the music is loud rap. That is the gym I go to.

Don't get me wrong, I like it. It has a lot of charecter and so do the patrons. There is that one lady who must be 50 but does power lifts like no other. There is the one kid who is not quiet right always wanting to join in with me and Ren dawg. George, the owner, makes sure that his gym is about business. Get in and work. They do not pamper you with towels, TVs or straight dumbells, but they equitment will always be there ready for people who want to work.

The past few weeks, the air conditioning has been down and only about half the fans work. I have still been working hard. Today, we did legs and because there wasn't a pipe pad, my back has a barbell mark going across the top. It's addictive, even though it makes my body sore and my hands calloused. I like the challenge and then looking back at the weight and telling myself, I lifted that today. It's like a rock climber climbing a mountain or a marathon runner running a marathon. There have been a few moments these past few weeks where I thought I was going to throw up or pass out, but all that football double session training in HS taught me that my mind is stronger then my body. It's the heat. Can you please fix the air-conditioning, George?