I've blogged previously about returning to the gym and the strange memories that come with that experience. I'm pretty much into a 2-day swim/lift routine now. The rest remains yoga. That leaves Friday to rest (Did the Bible get it wrong? Sunday is for Level 2-3 yoga, big guy, not just napping).
Anyway, I got to thinking this evening, staring around at the gym-rats and reminiscing (and later discussing with my brother who shared the same experience) about my high school days driving to Gold's Gym in Wheaton, MD. Back in those days the gyms weren't fancy shmancy (say that in your best "Grumpy Old Man" voice). This place was pretty much a shit-hole. No really lobby entrance to speak of; just weights, barren floor, posing room (yes, posing room, as in practice for the bodybuilding competition), mirrors, old windows, locker room with occasional steroid use, the works.
And old man named Herman who basically walked around dressed like the strong man of a big-top would dole out advice to "newcomers" and guys on 'roids would bench press 600lbs (no exaggeration) while the remainder of us either helped spot him or drooled.
Yes, folks, this is where I spent a good amount of time after school every day (when I wasn't in Stage Crew or Yearbook I guess) and in reminiscing I determined one thing: what a great way to spend your time. I got healthy, learned about some random characters who somehow ended up in a rotten gym in Wheaton (say Wheaton ten times and tell me if it's not amusing somehow?) and generally enjoyed myself. I pretty much kept quiet and slowly succumbed to the reality that a 16-year old Jewish kid wasn't going to be entering body-building contests without serious steroids (which didn't interest me in the least).
And that's all I got to say about that. Just some random memories of Herman and company. It beats being in a gang I suppose. And I still have the pectorals that I built up then to help me with yoga now. Thanks Gold's.