GYM TALK DARK SIDE LEADS TO BETTER LIFTING

I heard gym talk. It’s different than locker room talk, which is not about bragging. Gym talk takes some bragging since you’re on the weight room floor and not standing naked in front of a locker.

A man was bothered. He’d had a tense moment with another man, an angry moment, and he couldn’t shake it.

So he asked me what to do. Why me? I have white hair, sixty four years under my belt, and I’d just benched 225 X 5 twice.

I’d ask me a question, too.

“The guy keeps bugging me, cuts me off when I’m walking, goes out of his way to try and intimidate me. I need to do something to make him stop before things escalate again,” he said.

Not exactly the gym talk I liked best, but I had an answer. If a good guy asks a question, have a good answer.

I’d been waiting for this moment.

I didn’t like the other guy either, but didn’t say it out loud.

“I know how you feel,” I said. “But look at things from his perspective. What do you see when you look in the mirror? What do I see?”

The guy we talked about looked in the mirror and saw something straight of central casting, especially if they were looking for a death camp guard. The man would have been a perfect fit for Schindler’s List, or Seven Beauties.

Every prison movie has his ‘type.’

If he lost a few pounds he’d be the shooter in a remake of Cool Hand Luke. He’d be the bad man facing Clint Eastwood and George Kennedy. Charles Bronson would be on his tail for doing bad things.

He looked old school bad, dark bad, with his Adolph Eichmann glasses and chemically enhanced body.

“I’d stand down,” I said. “This is someone who might go off in any direction. He looks like he might pop after another steroid shot, or HGH thing. Not normal and I don’t want to get splattered when he goes, and he’s going.”

“That’s what it looks like,” he said.

“Look, he’s got something about him that bugs you, and you let him know. So he’s amping it up. You’re right, it’s a problem, but you need a better approach,” I said.

“That’s why I asked you.”

That’s why he asked me?

I accept the responsibility of coming up with a better solution than committing a crime on someone who probably knows how to handle himself. He reminds me of office guys I met working for E F Hutton in New York.

If they didn’t like anyone the developed whooping cough every time they walked past their desk. Once I learned the trick I knew the hacking, coughing, throat clearing, nose blowing mess I head every day was a form of communication. A fake sneeze was the worst/best.

“When you walk past him, or he cuts you off, hack up a big lunger for his benefit,” I said. “What’s he gonna do, complain? It’s not your fault you have the urge to puke whenever he’s near. If he does ask, tell him you’re not feeling too well, ask him for a doctor’s name. You’re also feeling contagious. He’ll steer clear.”

“How do you know?” he asked.

“Simple. Wouldn’t you avoid someone who hard hacked near you? I always do. Like that guy over there,” I said, pointing to the cardio row. “That guy has a health problem, always clearing something. I won’t go near him. It’ll work for your punk-man.”

I talked on and on until he got the ‘escape look’, the ‘why did I ask anything’ look. He probably won’t ask another question, but I wanted him to know he needed to disengage from the guy’s orbit, that nothing good would come out of confrontation.

From man talk in man to man face offs, if you call someone out to answer for their stupidity, and they refuse, they find little bitch-ass ways to get even. Some people take medications for their problem, others get rude, both can be a pain.

“Don’t make his problem your problem,” I said. “He’s already got enough room that we’re even talking about him. He doesn’t deserve more. Just file him and his act in the ‘Not Worth It’ file, because he’s not worth another second of your time.”

Gym talk conclusion

“Thank you, man. I’m glad I asked you,” my pal said.

“Ain’t nothing. I just told you the same thing you’d tell me if we reversed roles,” I said.

“Yeah, I probably would.”

One of my favorite guys.