There comes a point in everyone’s life - regardless of cast, creed and race; of whether you are a believer or an atheist, belieber or a rationalist, lady gaga or whatever the opposite of that is. . - When we pause, sink to self with introspection and after a long stare in the mirror say ‘I think I have to hit the gym’.
If only I had a rupee every time someone said - "If only I had a nickel every time I heard someone say 'I think I have to hit the gym'." - I would have bailed out Kingfisher by now.
Of all the countless people with this enticing thought (of "hitting" the gym), only a few elite would actually dare to execute it, and of the few - only a lucky one or two would return, swallowing the embarrassment caused, to tell you their story of survival. If you are standing up, please sit down - for I am about to tell you that I am one of them. I belong to the group of chosen ones, a group that has seen the dark side and survived to tell you the tale - a group so small, that you can count them using your index fingers.
The whole world is divided into two kinds – the first, us, the simple frail unathletic kind, for whom bones are either like keys – you’ve to look really hard to find them or bones are simply the z-axis; And then there is the second kind, them, the athletic types, the bullies of the world, for whom the former's bones are like promises, meant to be broken.
After registering at a near-by gym, I was asked to meet a Physiotherapist to evaluate my current level of fitness. I was a bit nervous, for evaluating me in fitness is like evaluating Shahrukh Khan, Sreesanth and S M Krishna in acting, cricketing and oratory skills quite respectively or irrespectively.
My phsyio was a woman in her late twenties, I reckon, who looked strong enough to lift me up by neck with her right hand and knock me down dead with her left. I tried to be as nonchalant as possible as I walked into her room, slowly identifying my nearest exits in case of an emergency
She saw me walking in and picked up her pen from the table, holding it above the writing pad as if she is about write something really important but doesn’t exactly remember what, paused for a moment, and then turned to me and said, "We will test your stamina, flexibility etc."
For the next few minutes we went to through a series of exercises; I wouldn’t want to go into the specifics but if you are curios, please Google for ‘the eye of the tiger Rocky’ and watch the relevant videos.
The entire episode, which lasted for around 5 minutes but felt like a life time, left me cramping with pain like Apollo Creed at the end of the 15th round.
She looked at her watch and scribbled down few comments on the notepad - and looked straight into my eyes and said what no woman has ever said to me before -
"I will have to measure your body fat now"
I gave her a puzzled look not sure of what to say - so she went on
"They are two ways we can do this, one - you take off your shirt and I will note down some measurements; or two - we use this machine (pointing to a small machine to her left) which would cost you 250 bucks." She stopped and shrugged pointing her hand towards me in a gesture that meant that the ball is in my court.
There comes a point in everyone’s life when you have to choose between the two roads, between an embarrassing one and the economical one. It is this decision that would decide whether you would grow up to be part of the bully kind, or the simple, frail, unathletic kind. So, I looked straight into her eyes without flinching for a moment (what to a third party observer would have seemed like a cowboy standoff).
And I said - "Let me go get my wallet"
If only I had a rupee every time someone said - "If only I had a nickel every time I heard someone say 'I think I have to hit the gym'." - I would have bailed out Kingfisher by now.
Of all the countless people with this enticing thought (of "hitting" the gym), only a few elite would actually dare to execute it, and of the few - only a lucky one or two would return, swallowing the embarrassment caused, to tell you their story of survival. If you are standing up, please sit down - for I am about to tell you that I am one of them. I belong to the group of chosen ones, a group that has seen the dark side and survived to tell you the tale - a group so small, that you can count them using your index fingers.
The whole world is divided into two kinds – the first, us, the simple frail unathletic kind, for whom bones are either like keys – you’ve to look really hard to find them or bones are simply the z-axis; And then there is the second kind, them, the athletic types, the bullies of the world, for whom the former's bones are like promises, meant to be broken.
After registering at a near-by gym, I was asked to meet a Physiotherapist to evaluate my current level of fitness. I was a bit nervous, for evaluating me in fitness is like evaluating Shahrukh Khan, Sreesanth and S M Krishna in acting, cricketing and oratory skills quite respectively or irrespectively.
My phsyio was a woman in her late twenties, I reckon, who looked strong enough to lift me up by neck with her right hand and knock me down dead with her left. I tried to be as nonchalant as possible as I walked into her room, slowly identifying my nearest exits in case of an emergency
She saw me walking in and picked up her pen from the table, holding it above the writing pad as if she is about write something really important but doesn’t exactly remember what, paused for a moment, and then turned to me and said, "We will test your stamina, flexibility etc."
For the next few minutes we went to through a series of exercises; I wouldn’t want to go into the specifics but if you are curios, please Google for ‘the eye of the tiger Rocky’ and watch the relevant videos.
The entire episode, which lasted for around 5 minutes but felt like a life time, left me cramping with pain like Apollo Creed at the end of the 15th round.
She looked at her watch and scribbled down few comments on the notepad - and looked straight into my eyes and said what no woman has ever said to me before -
"I will have to measure your body fat now"
I gave her a puzzled look not sure of what to say - so she went on
"They are two ways we can do this, one - you take off your shirt and I will note down some measurements; or two - we use this machine (pointing to a small machine to her left) which would cost you 250 bucks." She stopped and shrugged pointing her hand towards me in a gesture that meant that the ball is in my court.
There comes a point in everyone’s life when you have to choose between the two roads, between an embarrassing one and the economical one. It is this decision that would decide whether you would grow up to be part of the bully kind, or the simple, frail, unathletic kind. So, I looked straight into her eyes without flinching for a moment (what to a third party observer would have seemed like a cowboy standoff).
And I said - "Let me go get my wallet"
2 comments:
haha...well written ! I can relate to your feelings very well ! We should perhaps start a bony guys group or sorts :P
Ha ha ha ha, V Bale. Did you show your true size to the older woman?(of your body fat, of course)
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