A weird thing happened on the way to the free weights this morning. As I prepared for a standard workout, this dude asked me to give him a spot on the bench. Now, this particular dude is someone I don't usually see at the gym. He's about 5'7 and very stocky. He's almost totally bald with the exception of a rather mangy band of hair around the bottom half of his dome. He appears almost completely out of shape and overweight, but after one look at the plates on his bench bar, it's clear that he only works his chest at the gym.
The man had three plates on each side and a 25lb weight as well; so 365lbs. This was quite alarming to me. As I approached him to help him out, he instructed me to add a 10lb weight to the side I was nearest, which would up to the total to 385lbs. Trying to make light of the situation, I joked that it was a lot of weight. Bald dude not amused. He ignored my comment and told me that he was going to count to 3 and then I should lift up and guide him forward. He said he was only looking for one rep. Sounds easy enough.
So he counts to 3, and I lift. Now, I am not the strongest guy out there. Let's face it, I go to gym with the hope of some muscular definition as well as an with the initiative of staying in shape. I probably shouldn't have accepted the invitation to spot the stocky, bald man but spotting isn't supposed to be a crazy, difficult task. Anyway, the first try was wildly unsuccessful. I didn't get the weight out far enough for the guy be clear of the racks, so he put it back. And it felt like I was lifting all the weight myself, which was not only an incredible struggle, but also pretty fucking painful. After the weight was settled, I told the guy that he probably should ask another dude to help him, since I was not having an easy go of it. But he didn't think it was necessary.
"I want you to ease the weight up. It's only 20lbs. heavier than the previous weight I had on there, and I can get that up on my own. So you're only helping me with 20lbs."
Great. Make me feel like a pussy, you bald d-bag. I decided it wasn't the best time to tell him that my arm hurt from the first attempt.
Second attempt...3-2-1...and UP! Except, up was a shaky endeavor at best. I was literally quivering at the sheer mass of this lift and the second attempt failed to clear the racks again. Bald d-bag is now looking mildly perturbed and this time, he stands up to instruct me on the spot.
"You're shaking. It's throwing me off when I go to control the weight. Just lift up and push out lightly...I'll be doing most of the work, so you really don't have to work so hard."
Pearls of wisdom from the petulant puffball. Once again, I offer that he really won't be offending me if he was to relieve me of my spotting duties in favor of a one of the three other dudes in our general vicinity...all of whom were visibly buffer than I. But no, baldy wanted to stick with me, for whatever disturbingly unobvious reason. On to attempt number 3...and UP! It's up this time, and I'm guiding it outward to clear the racks. This time, he utters "nope, nope" and we set the bar back down. He rises again, this time to remind me that if I don't release the weight simultaneously with both hands, it will throw off his balance and he'll drop the weight. I salivate at the thought. At this point, my left arm is throbbing and shaking, I'm sweating profusely and panting and this bowling ball with arms is just bullish about me getting this weight in proper position. I started to wonder if this was some kind of covert exam and maybe he's recruiting men for a secret society. Surely I had failed at this point, so why not let me go about my business? What possible, sane, credible reason could this asshead have for making me be his spotter?
Attempt 4...I lift up, I push out, it's smooth and I release the weight. Stay Puft eases it down and completes one rep, then puts the bar back on the racks, only he misses one of them. There sits the weight now, awkwardly hanging down on one side with me pathetically trying to support it so it doesn't come crashing down on something or someone. Thankfully, one dude had been watching this humiliation the whole time and he ran over to grab the bar and help me put it on the other rack. Totally exasperated and exhausted, I tell the bald man that he did a good job on the lift and that I was done. As I walk away, the dude who helped me with bar tells me to get some water, take a rest and go on to my next exercise, as he is assured that I have just endured a very difficult arm set. He laughs at my futility and I offer a wry smile. I want to say something horribly offensive, maybe about his wristbands or his white tube socks but I remind myself that I am not in any place to be a nuisance. Lauren's place of work and all...bad idea. Plus, what am I gonna do, fight the guy? That's a resounding no.
I'm not sure what lesson is to be learned here, but I guess I should have politely turned the bald man down when he asked me to spot him. I'll know better next time.
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3 comments:
That's the saddest, sweetest little story that I've ever heard. A boy amongst men.
In all seriousness though, the guy benching obviously has a lot of issues, a lot of issues. You were obviously being set up for failure from the beginning as a way to provide an alibi for his failed attempt at 385lbs. It's part of my ego-protectionist theory and it only applies to men 5'7" and below.
Thanks for your first post in 36 weeks that wasn't either a play by play of a baseball game or a minute by minute description of a car ride.
-Gilbert
All of that for one rep? Gilbert's right, this guy is a complete tool.
As for lessons to be learned, here's one: Wear your iPod all the time so you can pretend not the hear requests from idiots like this.
Funny post! Next time you see him at the gym ask him to spot you while you do bicep curls with 15 pound dumbells. Grunt as loud as you can after each rep and bust his b@lls as he spots you.
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