And to think I joined a gym to prolong my life.
Recently, at the request of my wife, my doctor, and several people I didn’t even know, I joined a gym in order to a) drop a few excess pounds and b) get everybody off my back.
The gym is so reminiscent of “Average Joe’s” from the movie Dodgeball that I’ve affectionately named it “Below Average Joe’s”—because it’s just a tad dirtier.
And though the gym doesn’t feature either a pirate or Stephen Root in goggles, it is cheap. And that’s just fine with me.
Working out at Below Average Joe’s been pretty cool. Except for one tiny, little problem.
Thursday morning.
You see, I like to walk but absolutely hate treadmills and ellipticals. My gym has a track upstairs, and I use it for walking. It’s not a big track, mind you—22 laps will get you a mile—but it gets the job done. Unfortunately, my gym also has MMA classes. Upstairs.
And guys who’ve done well enough in classes to compete. You know, competitively. In competitions.
One guy has apparently done well enough to compete competitively in competitions and trains just after dawn at least one day a week…
On Thursday...morning.
Did I mention that he's a psycho? By the time I’ve hauled my total sorriness upstairs at 6 a.m., “Rocky” (it’s what I call him in my internal monologue) is already sprinting around the track.
I calmly lay my keys, cell phone, and slice of pizza down on the floor near the counter I will use to, um, count my laps. The ones that I walk.
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After he’s done sprinting, he begins the serious training. He moves over to a punching bag and just starts ripping into it. He makes the “whoosh whoosh” sounds with his mouth while he’s beating the absolute inanimate life out of the bag.
He’s not using gloves. He howls and then eats a live chicken.
Next, he moves onto kicking another bag. He’s actually attached two 45-pound weights to the bottom of this bag. He’s totally wailing on it. He grunts with each kick. He sounds like he’s pooping.
And now comes the most uncomfortable five minutes of my week. After the kicking is complete, he stares at me, kneels to the ground, straddles yet another punching bag, and just goes to town on it. When his back is turned to me, two related observations spring to mind: a) he looks as though he’s dry-humping this poor bag and b) dude needs a girlfriend.
Honestly, it’s hard not to double over with laughter. But I’m just afraid enough of dying that I manage to stifle it.
Meanwhile, I nervously round the circular track and try to hide behind the hexagon cage where the MMA guys will spar in another 12 hours.
After the punching bags are thoroughly whipped, I often feel his eyes bearing down on me in the hopes that he’ll get a reaction. The only thing I think to myself is if I don’t show fear I can avoid becoming his female dog.
And it’s at that point that I usually trickle just a little pee.
In fact, I’ve begun wearing black shorts on Thursday so that he won’t be able to perceive that I may have slightly urinated myself.
I’d like to take this moment to come clean with the MMA crowd. I don’t understand the fuss over the sport. Heck, I never even figured out why boxing was a big deal. I guess I’m just a lover.
MMA fighters and fans are totally hardcore. And that I respect. The sport’s best performers work tirelessly and are obviously talented.
It’s just that I’m not a terribly intense person myself. My hobbies involve watching my favorite teams play baseball, football, and basketball; working on a variety of writing projects; and reading to my kids.
I also enjoy spending a lot of my time not bleeding.
Obviously, you can understand why I may have trouble relating to a guy who beats the crap out of inanimate objects in an effort to better prepare himself to beat the crap out of living, breathing human beings.
Seriously, why couldn't my gym have started a dodgeball team? I know the five D's. I can do the five D's. Plus, I could appear on the Ocho. Who wouldn't want that?
But I digress.
So on Thursday morning, while you're safely tucked away in your nice, warm bed, I’ll be busy walking for my life, hoping that a crazy-psycho MMA fighter won’t try to kill me.
And to think I joined a gym to prolong my life…
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2 months ago
Glad to see you're back. Now I see what took you so long, you were trying to figure out ways not to die. It all makes sense now! Good article, I laughed...a lot.
from 2 months ago
No doubt Joe. It's hard to write when you're being preyed upon by a ferocious killer.
from 2 months ago
He may not have been trying to get a reaction out of you. He might have just been observing...He might be a real nice guy that wanted to give you some pointers, but you looked nervous. Just because he is a fighter doesn't mean he wants to fight you...If he were a football player would you have been nerbous of him tackling you...Give the guy the benefit of the doubt til he gives you a reason to do otherwise, and if you are seriously too afraid that he is a psycho just stay away from him. A lot of MMA fighters are actually nice people and you not being a fan of the sport couldn't fathom how a guy who beats people up for a living could be a nice guy, but a lot of them are...They don't have to fight for free they get paid to do it.
from 2 months ago
Thanks Jason, but seriously, this is just a lot of kidding around. It's the kind of thing your mind concocts when you're dilly-dallying around a too-small carpeted track while trying not to disturb an athlete who's training hard.
from 2 months ago
Well that article was good untill Jason the Buzzkill came in and took this way to literally.
from 2 months ago
I thought you were seriously scared to death by this guy. I wasn't meaning to be a buzzkill, but I didn't want you to try and steer clear of the gym being afraid of this guy either.
from 2 months ago
No problem Jason. The way I wrote the piece, I can definitely understand the confusion. No harm, no foul.
2 months ago
Is it Joey from the Real World? Don't let him drink or it could lead to a major meltdown. If said meltdown occurs, run for your life and set up a video to send me. I will watch and laugh from the privacy of my home.
from 2 months ago
Thanks for your support Aron. I'll grab the camcorder and podcast it for you.
2 months ago
Two words...freaking hillarious!
from 2 months ago
Glad to see my girlie-mon fear amuses you Ivan.
Thanks for reading!
from 2 months ago
Glad to see my girlie-mon fear amuses you Ivan.
Thanks for reading!
2 months ago
I have only one advice for you my friend! Ask him to help you train!!
I bet you that he will not turn you down, see despite our grueling hardcore training, we are usually very easy going and love to help others. I think it has to do with the fact that we have no anger left over after we take it all out on the bags!!
:)
from 2 months ago
You guys pound on the bags, I usually pound down a skillet after working out.
Dude, I'm totally blowing my walk on sausage and eggs!
2 months ago
I should probably note that I've given him the standard "gym nod" and said "hey" without an altercation.
2 months ago
haha great article greg, made me laugh for a while
2 months ago
As a fan, writer, and MMA competitor I found your article hilarious. However, there simply is no better shape you can be in than fighting shape. You should def ask the guy to show you some things.
from 2 months ago
You mean no one's impressed by my "eating Cheetos" shape? Thanks for reading, Bryan.
from 2 months ago
You know Greg, I've heard MMA fighters love cheetos.
That could be a good ice breaker...
from 2 months ago
But then I'd have to write an article called "Who Moved My Cheetos?" And that's just bad.
from 2 months ago
if we see you come out of the gym one day with cheetos sticking out of your nose like in that commercial then we'll know how it went.
this was a hilarious read btw!!
from 2 months ago
Hey, I'd prefer the nostrils to other orifices. Thanks for reading. I'm glad you liked it Justin.
2 months ago
Loved your article. You and I have the same sense of humor. Thank God I am not alone!
from 2 months ago
Thanks Dorothy! Glad you liked it!
2 months ago
Greg, you are so lucky... (My gym doesn't allow live chickens!)
Absolutely, ridiculously funny! Glad to have you back. It was getting lonely in the middle.
(And this article is my pick of the day, but only because there is no pick of the week!) :)
from 2 months ago
The live chickens...just remember, I'm in rural Indiana...
2 months ago
i like fire, greg make boomboom in pants
from 2 months ago
IT WAS URINE! I DID NOT SHIDOOBIE!
2 months ago
Greg this was great. It reminded me of this one kid that I knew in high school. Lets just say this guy might even by the guy that you writing about. He talks just like Mike Tyson (might have the same IQ as well) I remember my junior year in high school this guy got hit by a train because he thought the train was making fun of him (kid you not). But the good thing is that your alive and well! Thanks for a great read.
from 2 months ago
No problem, Derek. Thanks for the comment. And thanks for the "bit of a downer" story, too.
Let's be honest, if it's the same dude, I might have to switch gyms--if he can survive a shot from a train, he'll definitely be able to withstand my iPod when I throw it at him.
2 months ago
I went to my first MMA fight a few months ago, the boyfriend's little *and I use that term loosely. I mean the kid is a good foot taller than I am, and I can call him a kid because I've known him since he was like 7 and he's barely 20 lol*
You should be scared. I nearly urinated myself when I walked into the place where the fight was (could have been beer from the big scary guy) But I found myself oddly fixated with the concept of two grown men in a cage kicking and hitting the crap out of each other. And by the time the boyfriend's brother was fighting, I was standing up yelling and sloshing beer around with the scary people! It was very strange because for the most part I'm a pretty happy go lucky peace loving person. And when the kid came up and said he thought he broke the arm of the guy he was fighting I said, "That is freaking cool!" I don't know where that came from and that scared me more than the big scary guy who spilled his beer on me!
from 2 months ago
This seems like one of those events that should be alcohol free--like my grandmother's quilting meetings...although those crazy gals still smuggle in a flask every so often.
2 months ago
Great article Greg! Where those tight black shorts for me won't you, as you'll be seeing me Thursday!
SHIDOOBIE DOOBIE DOOOOO!!!!
from 2 months ago
I hate to burst your bubble there, Chucko, but I wear the biggest, baggiest basketball shorts on the market.
Of course, now I'll be wearing two...
from 2 months ago
Maybe you should wear the tight blackies under the baggies to prevent mess...less cleanup, unless you just want to roll it under the treadmill and walk away wistling non challantly.
from 2 months ago
A darn fine idea if I do say so my darnself.
2 months ago
pretty funny stuff... Most people who train understand that they can demolish somebody who doesn't, there fore leave them alone- But you walked into HIS gym-you ARE in his world. He didn't come to your job to try to write an article. He has chosen to test his spirit against another man's in the heat of battle, which is an old and respected as the use's of a scribe in society. I'd try approaching him and telling him you'd like to write about him. Even monsters have hearts, you have to know where to aim to find them
from 2 months ago
I think I'll just tell him my name's DJ Gallo and that I write the SportsPickle.
2 months ago
G-man!! great article...I loved it. It made me laugh like college days!!!
from 2 months ago
Glad you enjoyed it, Dutchie!
2 months ago
Glad to have you back Greg! Excellent article, I may have urinated MY pants...
No, I wouldn't do that...right?
from 2 months ago
Only if you train at my gym at 6 AM Thursday. It's 12:30 PM Wednesday where I'm at--I'm already feeling nauseous.
Of course it could be that the local Mexican restaurant may have slightly undercooked my enchilada--but I'm not pointing fingers...
2 months ago
If it makes you feel better, it isn't you that he wants to kill, it is more likely his mom, dad, significant other or at least that part of his life that makes him need to be the most intense person in the room.
Having said that, I am off to have a cocktail at 11:27 on a Sunday morning.
from 2 months ago
Hmmm...I don't feel better...
Thanks for reading and hope you had a relaxing Sunday afternoon!
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