The Gym

“True enjoyment comes from activity of the mind and exercise of the body;
the two are united.”
Alexander von Humboldt

Okay, so body and mind are united. I got it! Deep down I know that’s a fact, but even being fully aware that going to the gym is in my best interest, I still find it hard to motivate myself to go: especially in the last year or so.

It wasn’t always like that though. There was a time I loved going to he gym, and spent hours there each and every day. I may not have the body of a muscle builder to prove it, but I spent hours and hours working hard, trying my best to maintain a certain level of fitness, and of course fighting the never-ending battle of the bulge.

Believe it or not there was a time I could bench over 300 pounds, run mile after mile on the treadmill without effort, and had the demeanor where I would scoff at the petty stacks of weights attached to most muscle building machines. However those days are gone. Long gone.

I don’t know what happened, or exactly when my love affair with the gym started to dwindle, but methodically over time I’ve found it easier and easier to make excuses why I didn’t need to go rather than remembering and reinforcing the positive nurturing benefits I received from actually going.

Don’t misunderstand me, it’s not that I don’t ever go to the gym any more it’s just I don’t go as often as I should. Especially with my weight issue, my injuries, and the fact I have really high cholesterol levels. These are all factors which should clearly make working out an essential part of my life, especially if I want to continue living life with some degree of quality--or just continue living period.

In my defense, it’s not just a case of being lazy. Once I’m at the gym I work out with intensity. I don’t go there to socialize, or make friends, though I will admit I have stopped to watch some of the more attractive women as they workout.

It’s sort of a joke, but I found the best way to run on the treadmill was to always pick a treadmill closest to the cutest girl and pretend I was running with her. That not only served as a distraction from the mind numbing drudgery of running on a stationary machine, it also helped me maintain a certain pace. I always tend to run too fast on my own.

Of course now that I’m married I never look at other women (my wife reads this “blog”…), so those days are over, and I’ve had to learn to pace myself.

Okay you can all stop laughing now.


The first gym I ever went to was called “The Sports Palace,” a name that definitely conjures up a certain perception this place couldn’t live up to. It was clearly no palace.

The equipment, what there was of it, was antiquated, the place reeked of old sweat, and if they had a heater it was never turned on. It was clearly the type of place you see in a Hollywood movie; run-down, impoverished, and poorly lit. Don’t even get me started on the condition of the locker room or showers.

However, it was a place for the “serious” body builder. No frills, no thrills, just lots of free weights, and enough testosterone to fuel a high level of machismo.

Plus they had a super heavy bag I could punch to my hearts content.

For all its shortcomings the Sport Place was the kind of gym that saw its share of professionals. There were not only professional body builders, but off-season football players, and professional wrestlers.

As a kid I watched Saturday morning wrestling, and the first time I saw a group of these guys at the gym I was semi-star struck. Of course I was even more amazed that the likes of Pat Paterson and Ray Stevens were working out with their archenemies. Enemies they had vowed to beat to a pulp any time, anyplace just a few days ago.

And people say wrestling isn’t fake.

Another thing I learned from watching these wrestlers was they are tough, very big, and very strong. Anyone who says they are not athletes has no idea what they are talking about.

More importantly to me, especially at the time, was that besides their athletic prowess I endeavored to emulate, they were also some very nice guys. Though I was a kid (13) they treated me with respect. Even “The Baron,” who while being a notorious bad guy on TV and a character I always hated, never hesitated or became annoyed when I asked him for instruction on how to do a particular exercise.

The thing I appreciated the most about going to the Sports Palace, was the level of experience people had there. Since I was just starting out, their knowledge was invaluable, and because of these men I never picked up a lot of the bad habits I now see when I do go to the gym.

Unfortunately, the Sports Palace closed when I was about 15, and I only spent a couple of years there. In the end the Sports Palace just couldn’t compete with the likes of “Gold’s Gym” or “24 Hour Fitness.”

I don’t even remember the name of the next gym I tried. Like the Sports Palace it was tiny, poorly equipped, and poorly maintained. However, it was the best gym I’ve ever gone to.

Unlike most gyms where you have to pay extra for a personal trainer this gym offered the service for free. In fact you couldn’t work out there without seeing a trainer at least once a week. It also offered free massages once a month, though I was too young for that service.

I figure I saved thousands of dollars going to this place because of that one feature alone, and I know I benefited from having someone there to train me. This was especially so with the trainer I picked since he wouldn’t take no for an answer, and wouldn’t let me take any shortcuts.

Sometimes with is training, I felt as if I had joined the military. But it taught me that the body is capable of doing a lot more than it wants to and that in order to get results you have to push yourself beyond your limits, or what you perceive are your limits. (Sort of the same things you learn if you do martial arts.)

Another cool thing about this gym was that is was located next to the local F.B.I. building, and a lot of agents worked out there, as well as federal prosecutors and local government employees.

Sometimes I think people don’t realize that others can hear their conversations, because some of the things these F.B.I. guys discussed most likely wasn’t intended for the public to hear. Though for someone like me who wanted to be police officer it sounded oh so exciting.

I should note that I had wanted to be a police officer since I was five years old. However, after listening to these guys and their stories I did consider applying for a job with the F.B.I. for a long time. At least I did until I discovered that their job is actually 80% paper work. No thanks!

Like the Sports Palace, this gym was also forced to close due to competition. I wonder what ever happened to Yaroslav (my trainer).

Come to think of it, and looking back, it was funny how many of the personal trainers at this gym were of Russian decent. Could it have meant,….Nah! I’m sure it was just a coincidence.

The next gym I trained at was located on my college campus. Like the previous gyms, it wasn’t great,,but they had the basics.

By this point in time, I already had a few years of experience, and basically knew what I needed to do to meet my fitness objectives.

However, college would be the fist time in my life I actually trained for a competitive sport: judo.

It would also be a point in my life that that exercising would turn out to be very frustrating. Not because of the work involved, I enjoyed the exercise, but because of the lack of perceived results.

While this hard to explain in a few paragraphs I will try.

When I entered the Judo program I started with two other guys. One guy was a short Chinese guy named Ken. The other guy was a medium built Latin guy named Pablo. Then of course there was me a 190-pound lanky Caucasian.

When we started our training we were all given individual programs for cardio, calisthenics, and for the weight room. While some of the exercises were different, essentially the workouts were the same.

Now I know for a fact we all followed our workout programs. I also know we were all overachievers, and did even more exercise than required by the coaching staff. However, it was clear we didn’t experience the same results.

In the first year Ken gut huge, and started to look like the poster boy for a body building competition. His results were amazing: eight-pack abs, bulging biceps, and a massive chest. Even his legs grew in size, no easy feat considering how hard putting mass on legs is to accomplish.

And this was done without the aid or steroids, an all too common practice during that time, and definitely something we all had ample access to.

As for Pablo he also had outstanding results, though nowhere in compassion to Ken. Cleary Pablo had a six-pack, his pectorals had grown considerably, and he was in better physical shape. I think the term is “sculpted.”

Then there was me. Poor me. I didn’t have a six-pack, and the rest of me barely looked as if I had done any exercise at all during the year. Sure I was stronger, quicker, and had lots of stamina, but outwardly you couldn’t see any changes.

Trust me, I was scrutinized by the coaching staff, and almost labeled as a slacker. That label wouldn’t stick with since the coaches saw me train daily, and knew I was trying my best. The fact is, I normally pushed myself more than the others, just because I wasn’t getting the same results.

Now I know a lot of these results has to do with genetics, but it’s very disconcerting. It’s really enough to make one want to throw in the towel and give up. However that’s not my personality.

Needless to say I tried for years to get that stupid six-pack and “sculpted” look. I worked and I worked and I worked, but it never happened. Now after all these years I just don’t care.

Of course given my current state of physical fitness and workout regime, six-pack abs are not in my future.

After college, my gym days ended--not because I didn’t want to go, but because I started a career as a police officer. That meant the graveyard shift. A shift that left me in a constant state of fatigue. A shift I worked for almost 11 years straight.

Then came the kids, and so on and so on.

While I did find time to exercise during these years, it was nowhere near the level I once had done. As a result my body changed. Since I failed to maintain a certain standard of fitness I’m sure these changes were one of the reasons that led to my injury at work. And that injury that led to almost two years of total inactivity.

After two years of being inactive, I once again hit the gym with a passion. I had to for the sake of my own mental health and self-esteem. I was up to almost 300 pounds, divorced, and angry at the world. Angry at myself.

The gym was my only outlet. There I could workout the frustrations and uncertainty that was now my life. It was the place I could focus on something other than what was going on in the other aspects of my life, most of which I wasn’t happy with. It was the clam in the storm so to speak.

To be honest if it hadn’t been for the gym I don’t know where I would be at this point in my life.

Today I’m a member of “24 Fitness.” I joined this gym for two reasons; it was close to my house, and they have a lap pool. I also joined right after they built the place so I got a fantastic deal. Now, my sons, my wife, my mother, and I are all members, and I think we pay less in total, than a single person would pay if they joined today.

“24 Fitness” is not what I consider a “real” gym, but they have everything one needs to get the job done. Certainly, they have more equipment than any other gym I went to previously.--if one goes there to work out.

There are definitely enough people there who have different agendas. However, my gym isn’t as bad as some located in the East Bay, which are notorious for being “pick up clubs.”

Of course, I can’t remember the last time I ever saw a professional body builder at my gym, or a professional athlete, or even a wrestler. Not saying it couldn’t or hasn’t happened, I’ve just never seen it. My guess is that guess is that these guys go to Gold’s, which in my area has more of a reputation for the serious athlete.

Then again, when I’m there I now I mainly focus on what I’m doing. I may spend two hours working out, but none of that time is wasted. Who’s around me, what they’re talking about, or what they are or are not doing isn’t my business. I’m there for me. It’s my time.

As selfish as this may sound I truly dislike going to the gym with someone else. That’s because I always tend to end up being the coach, instead of doing my regular routine. Or I end up doing bits and pieces, which in my opinion, is just a waste of time for me.

Like I said, when I go to the gym it’s for me. It’s my time to focus on myself, to better myself. I like pushing myself, and I like the feeling of accomplishment I get when I’ve lifted a little more than the day before, ran just a bit longer or faster, or taken time off my mile swim.

I don’t exercise to put on muscle mass, (at least not any more), to pump my muscles up so I can flex them in the mirror, or to see a change on the weight scale. Those are not my goals.

When I go to the gym, it’s to move my body, in ways that energize me mentally and physically. I go there to strengthen joints that have been injured, abused and worn. I go there to increase my heart rate in order to improve my overall endurance. I go there so that I don’t feel as guilty about the food choices I make.

Going to the gym may be a pain, but dieting is pure Hell. After all, if God hadn’t meant for us to eat cheesecake he wouldn’t have created it.

So with all that said, why do I still have such a hard time motivating myself to go to the gym now-a-days.

I wish I knew.

Maybe part of the reason is that after all these years I’m just a little burned out, though like I said once I’m there I truly enjoy myself. I remember all the reasons why my time spent at the gym had meaning. How it healed me. How it still relaxes me.

Maybe its because my body no longer works like it used to, and I haven’t come to terms with the fact that I can no longer be as athletic as I was when I was twenty. I can no longer lift the stack, bench 300 pounds, or run without feeling the effort in my shins and knees. What once was fun is now work.

Maybe my outlook on my life is a lot better, and I don’t need the release the gym once afforded me. In other words I’m a lot less stressed than I used to be. I’ve learned to relax in other ways. Things I used to stress about are no longer an issue, or just a bad memory buried deep inside my psyche.

Maybe its just boredom.

Whatever the reason is, or reasons are, none of them are good ones.

In the future is there a chance I’ll return and renew my love affair with the gym? Surely the answer is yes. After all, I’ve slumped before and returned with a vengeance.

Will it be tomorrow, most likely not, though one never knows?

The only exercise some people get is jumping to conclusions, running down their friends, side-stepping responsibility, and pushing their luck! ~Author Unknown