Ryan writes:
I like Jerkin Buddies best. The donkey shirt might bring unwanted company. You know someone might read it as a call for help and come over and talk to you about it…then what.
Well if you’re like me, then you’d do what you’ve always done. You’d lie. You’d tell them, “Nah man. It’s just a joke.”
They’d say, “Just a joke, huh?”
“Yeah. A joke.” More to yourself, you’d add, “Everything’s a joke.”
Later, you would rack the bar across your shoulders for the clean. You’d take a breath and drive the bar off your chest. It stalls at your forehead and begins to drift in front of you, but you are committed, you drive into it, get your chest through, you lose neutral spine but you stick with it. But you wobble as you near the top of the press, and then it slips too far forward and it’s gone. You nearly black out and lean over.
“Everything’s a joke,” you mutter.
“What was that?” a passer-by at the gym asks.
“Nothing,” you say, flash your best smile. “Havin’ the time of my life.”
* * *
Today’s MopeWOD: have a negative experience with a stranger at a globo gym. Ask them for a spot, and be forced to invalidate the set because they touch the bar as it goes up. Receive unsolicited advice for squatting too deep, or deadlifting more than 225lbs. If you power clean, have someone walk directly in front of or behind you WHEN THEY KNOW YOU ARE DOING SOMETHING WITH THE BARBELL THAT REQUIRES A LITTLE SPACE. Better yet, have this person get upset with you for performing a power clean so close to them that they feel endangered.
This oughta be good. Cya.
* * *
Kincain writes:
I fucking hate people that are staring at me doing sets of shit weight that everyone can do. It is when you stack 2 or more plates on your bar you are immediately the center of attention. And I don’t want to be, I hate it because what I do isn’t remotely impressive. I remember there was an inquiry of the gym that had a bunch of questions about how good it was etc. but also one of the question were: “Rate from 1 to 5, I go to the gym because I like how people look at me”. Is this really a consideration of person to go work out? Get fucking attention? Yesterday a guy commented on the weight on the bar and that it was impressive, I probably came over as a douche saying that it wasn’t enough.
I lifted with Josh at a fucking 24 Hour Fitness yesterday and it fucking blew. He said hello to this chick with short hair and tats and I’m pretty sure she hated me. Maybe it was my imagination but I felt like she was giving me funny looks. Haven’t cut my hair in a while, so I probably look like a dickhead. Also wearing a Just Lift t-shirt, which is the name of her powerlifting team in Ft. Lauderdale, and she was definitely thinking, “Do you even lift?”
What really ground my gears though was this fucking dickhead piece of shit who was doing rows in the Smith Machine – strapped – wearing a tapered belt. He thought he was really fucking hard. I just want to say that only one 45lbs was loaded onto the sleeves. That’s honestly all fine. But there was a plyo box next to the Smith Machine and I was gonna use it to sit on while I rested between sets. I asked this guy if he was using it and he DOESN’T ANSWER, OR LOOK AT ME, with his fucking nose in the air, and just gives a single shake of his head. Like I’m fucking inconveniencing him for asking a question. Oh excuse me sir, I apologize for interrupting your Smith Machine rows, that’s truly noble work you’re doing. It definitely warrants the androgel you apply to your testicles on a daily basis and the filthy sense of entitlement you carry with you.
newgetelqueso writes:
All of the responses I could think of given my general lack of social skills sounded awkward. I started panicking and after five minutes decided not to respond at all.
She won’t know how broken you are if you never open your mouth. Maybe this is the best way.
silentmachinery writes:
If I could agree in such a way that didn’t pre-suppose some kind of human connection or shared experience, then I would agree.
loled so hard at this.
“You don’t necessarily need to go heavy on squats, I did for years and now my back is bad, you can do burn out sets” – Random dude as I was warming up with 225.
“Your back is bending when you come up” – Random trainer as I was doing low bar squats, I explain that I’m doing a different style of squat that’s more bent over looking, he says “okay but I’ve been a trainer for years and I don’t know about that”, he proceeds to do SLDLs standing on a fucking plyo step-up box while making zero effort to maintain lumbar extension, his back was like half a circle.
“Your back is bending blah blah you should do leg press and smith machine squats with your legs in front of you” – Random asshole guy who was like 46 and looked like he took high school football way too seriously and wore gloves and a small tapered leather belt all the time and had big flabby arms that come from doing some curls with zero effort paid to diet or actual proper lifting. I cannot emphasize enough how this guy just looked like he was obsessed with high school football.
“You mind if I work in, I’m doing good mornings” – Random guy with an Inzer belt who then proceeds to do perfect good mornings with 185, get to talking and he’s doing Sheiko and deadlifts like 580 and actually knows what the fuck he’s talking about. Never see him again.
Wow a fucking block of text about stupidity at commercial gyms, I feel like a stereotypical powerlifting forum tough guy now.
You should.
Havent lifted in a globo gym in years. That was back before I knew anything about lifting. Went there with a friend for a free trial thing. Met with one of their reps. Eventually just got a membership to my Uni gym instead. But the rep at the globo gym would call me about twice a month trying to get me to sign up for a full year. Needless to say, he was the only person calling my phone besides my parents.
When I was finishing high school I used to workout at my house with a decent home gym set up but I thought college was going to be so bad ass. Awesome gym, 100% control of my diet because I don’t have to eat meals with the family (which actually meant I would eat worse, who knew?), etc. Anyways, that is what some would call context. The bank where I deposited my after school job checks had a box for a drawing to win a free month membership at Gold’s. Hot damn! Gold’s is where Arnold trained. I literally stuffed 100 forms in there with my information filled in, because fuck yeah I am a winner. Not a winner because I filled out one form and photocopied it, nope, a winner because i pushed through hand cramping knowing I was a fucking genius. Anyways, of course they called because if you sign up for a 1 year membership you get the first month free. But of course they don’t tell you that over the phone, champ. Congratulations,come on in to collect your prize, winner. I went to the orientation and the whole time felt like this polo’ed douche was laughing at me but I felt too much pride (it wasn’t pride) to leave before he finished his spiel. But I got him, I told him I had to check with my Mom before I could sign any forms.
People at my university gym look at me like I’m joking when my response to “how many sets you got left” exceeds 4 or 5.
This one bro actually asked if I was serious when I said 8.
NO BRO. I WAS JUST KIDDING. HERE, TAKE THE RACK. PLEASE.