Richard's Online Journal

[30/04/07] Your Guide To Going To The Gym

A gym's success can be judged by its personal trainers. Wario is yours.

1. Procrastinate: A tough art to learn, since by getting round to it, you fail. An essential skill however, and guaranteed to give you a warm feeling of satisfaction - in this case, the comfort you can only get by not being at a gym, mixed with the self-delusion that by planning to go, you’re still on the moral highground instead of the express train to Weaselville. Hurrah!

2. Waddle In: By keeping to the shadows, you can ensure none of the strangers shoot you that pitying “Oh, just go buy a donut,” look, and can make it into the changing room. There, suddenly scream ‘OH MY GOD IT’S A BOMB!’ to ensure a certain amount of privacy while changing. You may want to disguise your voice. I recommend a baritone.

3. Mark The Terrain: No, not like that. Amble amongst the machines, paying careful attention to their names, and the pretty little pictures on the side. Absorb the details, making many circuits to ensure you have everything committed to memory. Done wisely, this can buy you at least ten minutes of not feeling inadequate and crap. Embrace it.

4. Select A Clique: You have two equal, yet opposite groups to join. The first is pretty/handsome and easy on the eye, yet makes you feel lesser and empty. The second makes you feel like a Greek god/goddess in comparison, paid for by the motion sickness from their wobbly flounderings. You can try a blindfold to compensate, but then you won’t notice the hot girl/guy checking out your physical prowess. Only joking. You will die alone, in a bed that smells of chocolate and fried chicken.

5. Warm-Up: Don’t bother. Only PE teachers get anything out of this most pointless of activities. Much like climbing ropes and the belief that falling from the top of a gym climbing frame onto a wafer-thin blue mat won’t hurt, all those bizarre stretching and breathing exercises are merely proof of alien life on Earth, not sound physical advice. Cut straight to the power-running. When you hear your tendons snap in unison, you know you’re doing well.

6. Configure Your Machine: Having selected your first torture device, and delicately wiped it down to get rid of any germs and/or cooties, dramatically pull out the pin and shove it proudly into the heaviest setting. Crack your knuckles, preferably without wincing, and announce “A light warm-up today, I think!”. As soon as any of them turn their backs, quickly switch it back to the topmost and pump iron pyrite like some Wild West grifter. This is your last chance to look like a hero. Enjoy it.

7. Plan Your Regime: The trouble with going to the gym is that there’s no visible sign of progress; no little blips to fill up as you gain experience and Level Up to new levels of fitness. This can be depressing to begin with, but it has its advantages - a really bad work session gives you exactly the same results as a really hardcore one. Only better, because you’re not left exhausted, aching all over, and longing to die, and can still enjoy your celebratory chocolate bar afterwards. Or ten chocolate bars, melted together into one squishy log to cram down your gullet as a jubliant ‘up yours’ to diabetes. Go on, hero. You’ve earned it!

8. Exercise: Oh yeah. That. Best do some.

9. Find Your Level: Sub-basement. Kitchenware. Haberdashery. Really big pants. As a general guideline, find the point where you can only just manage around ten repetitions. Then halve the weight. There’s no sense straining yourself. As covered, it’s not like you’ll feel any different afterwards anyway.

10. Enter Deathless State Of Torpor, Freeing Your Mind Of The Tedious Inevitablity Of All Creation And Dreaming Of A Day When Little Elves Will Be Able To Insert Liposuction Needles Into Your Blubbery Belly As You Sleep, Mine It For Its Lakes Of White Gold, Sell The Results As A Delicious Milkshake For Unfussy Theme Park Visitors, And Leave The Proceeds For You To Spend On The Great Mountain Of Cake You Can Now Eat Without The Slightest Trace Of Guilt: Eh, it might happen.