I was fixin’ to do some pull-ups at the gym today when a little guy, probably a foot shorter than me, got to the pull-up bar first. I walked away when I saw how many he was doing. It is a firm principle of mine to not embarrass myself. I decided to sneak back later after this gymnast-type finished his multiple sets.
So I went over to the free weights. There was a muscleman there. He was in his twenties with huge arms. He tucked his tee shirt sleeves in to have the sleeveless look, the better to display those arms. I, on the other hand, did not tuck in my sleeves. I modestly chose to not display my huge arms. Well, I was not entirely modest, for I was wearing my Senior Olympics shirt. Maybe that intimidated him. He might have scoffed, but I like to think he was choking up with admiration.
As we stood there, facing the mirror, I noticed that we were each curling the same amount of weight on our respective barbells. I make it a point to notice stuff like that. I made sure I did as many reps as that whippersnapper. I’ve been around ya know.
I was competitive with this big kid if not the little gymnast. This muscle shirt guy was more my stature. Then he topped me. He walked up closer to the mirror, lifted the front of his shirt and checked out his six-pack abs. He was not that sly. He was unabashed. I decided to keep my shirt down. Comparing abs definition is where I draw the line.
After my workout, I went to the steam room. I made sure I stayed in longer than anyone else. It is a matter of competitive pride. You shoulda been there. I was really somethin’.
On my way out, I talked to the guy at the front desk. I had a question for him that he might not have been asked before. I asked, “If my muscles get too big so I have to cut back on my visits, is there some sort of refund or pro rata monthly dues?”
He did not miss a beat. He sincerely replied without smirking, “I suppose we can talk about that when the time comes.”
That is good to know.