These Arms Are Snakes

I'm Tired Tim... so tired.

This is the third gym-related post, and I promise once it reaches 10 then I’ll make it’s own category. I suppose there was a myriad of things that happened to me today, due to it being the first day of seminars, but this is what by far left the largest impact on me. Oh, and for those astute amongst you, yes, the title of this blog post is a blatant copy of the great rap band.

I haven’t been to the gym for a few days, mainly due to work and forgetting my damn gym card yesterday, so I chose to slip on in during the absurdly busy Sports Mart (I’m really not sure if that is short for Market or something else. I just no that I’ve lost £55 today because of it.) The gym wasn’t too bad, but within it resided the current captain of the 1st Team for Rugby, who is absurdly fit and absurdly muscular. I’m not too bad myself, but this guy makes me look like Gareth from the Office.

Anyway, he saw me lifting my paltry (in comparison to his) weights and he out right laughed. I don’t actually think it was a mocking laugh, and more of a ‘you’re being pathetic you lazy bastard’ kind of laugh. Naturally I rankled, and within 20 seconds I was lifting almost double what I had been before, which, of course, ended woefully. I managed perhaps two pushes before my arms decided to fuck off and leave me carrying these huge rubber rings. I almost dropped them to the floor before the Captain rubbed his chin and said ‘Hmm.. perhaps something slightly lighter?’ You think?

So I ended up lifting 8kgs over what I normally do, which I was rather chuffed about, and then he proceeded to include me in each of his exercises after that, which left me at one point trying to pick myself up off the floor and landing straight back on my arse due to the fact that my arms had nothing left to lift me up with. It’s a rather humbling experience for someone who is usually quite assured of his strength. I haven’t felt like this in about 3 years, when I used to row. Hopefully I don’t meet him again and start to push myself quietly without this great behemoth of a man hovering over me. Although, of course, it’ll probably be better for me in the long run if I bump into him again.

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About Phill Cameron

I've graduated, had a look at the world, and spat. Now I'm devoting my time to moving from 3/4 of a games journalist to 9/10ths. I figure I can get away with 9/10ths.
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