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Getting fit should come with a health warning, warns PJM. "In my pursuit of the body beautiful, I've broken three exercise bikes and two running machines, concussed myself and, most distressingly, bruised my testicles." And he's yet to try and get out of his contract...

(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 13:45)
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This question is now closed.

Oh well you're all scoffing now but wait till you hit middle-age.
You'll be signing your life away for the chance to get rid of your beer guts and bingo wings.

(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 14:59, 24 replies)
The joys of being manic
I joined a gym once, paying up front for a 12 month membership. I never used said gym, not once. I didn't even use the changing rooms to take a piss.

My reason for joining? I walked past the door and it seemed like a good idea. This was a few days before spending £200+ on DVDs in Virgin.
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 14:57, 3 replies)
Scrape, scrape.
I'd much rather be road-running, but a buggered knee means that, for the last few years, I've been confined to the low-impact world of the gym.

It's not unusual for me, after a session on the cross-trainer, to nip into the sauna for a bit, and there were a few regular faces at my last gym: the balding teacher, the girl with the slightly translucent white bikini... and The Shaver.

The Shaver used to freak us all out. Foregoing the luxuries of the running water, shaving gel, and mirror that he could have had in the changing-room, he would turn up, sit in the sauna, produce a Gilette, and start shaving...
scrape scrape scrape
... and then he'd wipe his razor across his towel, and leave.

That was it. No friendly chat. No relaxing in the pool. Just conspicuous, and (presumably) unsatisfactory and painful public shaving.

Conspicuous, unsatisfactory, painful, and REALLY CREEPY shaving.
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 14:53, 6 replies)
I've never been to a gym
The end.
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 14:50, Reply)
Things what I have noticed while at the gym.
All the men who use the weights are 5 foot or under.

All the skinny young girls who come in and spend 5 minutes on the bike while reading a magazine and then just as they are about to perspire, they leave.

A gym full of men......smells rank.

Then funniest thing was the young girl who went on the treadmill in a push up bra under her sports vest. All was fine until she actually started to run and then spent 20 minutes pushing her boobs back into her bra.
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 14:44, 1 reply)
The stairs. The stairs!
I used to go to a gym. It was rather nice. It was split between 2 levels and was very open. The only bad point was that the stairs between tthe 2 levels where very steep and the changing rooms where upstairs.

Yes, after one tough session I managed to do a Simon Pegg and fall down the bloody stairs.

The bunch of fit ladies that I had just started to say hi and bye to laughing at me managed to destroy all the self estime I had managed to build up in the place and I never went back.
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 14:39, Reply)
told me to try and join a gym at my appointment today, as I've got a bit of a tummy.

Or, as I would put it - I'm 29 weeks pregnant.

He blushed quite beautifully when I pointed this out...
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 14:39, 10 replies)
I walk around my neighbourhood
Because I am cheap, not fond of the sweat of others and lacking any desire to wear nothing but small amounts of Spandex in public. Not only is it free but the music is better, the people nicer and I get to catch up on all the local talk whenever I run into any of the neighbours.

Here's a story that is not only about gyms, but is far better than my own:
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 14:31, Reply)
Back in the good ol’ days...
...when I was able to blag a lot of freebies I used to go to the gym with my dad for freeee, and not just any old gym, a prison gym!

I must point out that I wasn’t in with the prisoners, I was in a gym with prison officers - their gym, not-surprisingly wasn’t as plush as the one the prisoners had.

Anyhoo… there were many characters at this gym and a few of them require honourable mention:

Crazy McBagpipes
He was a crazed Scotsman who used to run on the treadmill whilst subjecting the entire room to the booming tones of dance music, bagpipes styleee… seriously I never knew there were worse things than panpipes music – The dance music version of Stairway to Heaven on bagpipes takes the cake.

Mr Sweats-a-lot
As the name suggests he was quite a scary man, if you ran on a treadmill either side of him you would find that half of your body would be flecked with his sweat after about 30 seconds. He also never brought a towel with him and had slightly see-through shorts on – eeeeew!

A massive roid-raged individual who used to saunter into the gym, stare at all the other guys in the room and then lift, well, everything, and smash it to the floor whilst expelling gas – classy gent.

Two women that used to wander into the gym together, take up two treadmills side by side, walk whilst chatting for about 15 minutes and then leave together still chatting away – Slightly pointless!?

Captain Brand
There’s one in every gym, pretty much a walking billboard for Nike. He would stroll around trying not to get any sweat or creases in his highly sought after attire. I never really did see him break a sweat even once – Git.

So there we have it, the usual suspects, with the exception of Crazy McBagpipes, I have a feeling that he was somewhat of a unique individual.
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 14:30, 1 reply)
I've never even fucked someone called Jim.
No wait, maybe I did.
No, I think he was a Jon.

I fell off a treadmill once then I got back on and fell off it again, etc.
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 14:22, Reply)
I had a 6 month gym membership once.
It was about to expire. I asked to renew it but the chlorine-scented lady behind the desk told me I could only renew for a year, but that I'd get an extra two months membership for free.
I declined on the basis that I had no idea if I'd be alive in 14 months.

Non-story. Much like this topic. Again. Unless someone repeatedly posts about repeatedly falling off a treadmill. That might be amusing.
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 14:20, Reply)
I exercise every Friday and Saturday night
I walk between pubs.
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 14:20, Reply)
I have never visited a gym
Why put yourself through mundane torture while paying through the nose for it? You could run down the road and get a change of scenary as you go! Or play some sort of sport to give it a competative eliment!

However, I'm a lazy arse who can't be bothered to do any of this. Does eating count as exercise? I have to move to get food, right?
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 14:15, 2 replies)
Not a gym exactly, but sport...
Dry Ski Slope, West Midlands, about 1989. I am seven years old, and my parents have forced me out on a rainy Saturday to repeatedly snow-plough down about 100m of dirty carpet. I'm going with them to Italy a week later on only my second ski trip, and they insist on me getting some practice.

Much as I liked skiing in the mountains, this was not my idea of fun as I was soaked through and would far rather have been at home. So there I am, mind elsewhere, when I let slip one of my ski-poles.

I don't know if any of you have seen a dry ski-slope, but the surface is made of a sort of grid, like this

The pole fell forward, the handle went into one of the holes, the tip end flicked up in the air, and I skied straight onto it, with the handle braced in the hole providing resistance, and managed to rip open my scrotum.

My mum thought I was just moaning because I wanted to go home and made me do another 2 runs before I pulled out my salopettes to show her that my pants had turned red and the blood was running down my leg. She relented and took me to hospital, where I waited in pain for 45 minutes before a very tired and nonchalant looking Doctor stitched my ballbag closed again.

Yes, it hurt. The salt-baths I had to take for weeks afterwards hurt too. Plus the fact you don't get many opportunities to show off the fairly cool scar (the most memorable exception being the Doctor I later had a fling with, who stopped mid fellatio to commend the quality of the stitching)
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 14:11, 2 replies)
My local gym
is as big as a basement and I pay just over £30 per month for the privilege of using it. Still, it's a good laugh, the staff are nice people and I get to sweat all over the equipment, so it's all good.

Not much of a story but I just wanted to feel included...
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 14:10, Reply)
A couple of years back
I decided it was time to get buff.

It was probably the wife affectionately calling me her big pooh bear that convinced me it was time...

So off I jogged to the local branch of Fitness First which had all the latest gizmos to get you fit. Sadly said gizmos required you to actually exercise. Being the posh place it was I even had my own personal trainer like some hollywood star who stood by the machine while I huffed and puffed, telling me that I shouldn't eat chips and smoke tabs.

My nemesis the cross trainer (think medieval torture contraption) had sensors on the handles that measured your heart rate as you worked out and displayed the increasingly alarming numbers on the screen in front of you. When it started beeping and going WARNING! WARNING! I decided that this exercise lark really wasn't for me so I left and never went back.

Cost of finding out that I'm an unfit slob = 500 quid

Pooh bear it is then....
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 14:06, Reply)
One day...
I'll open a bar called "The Gym".

Problem solved.
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 14:01, 6 replies)
That is all.

//No, that's not all: Go outside instead.
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 14:00, Reply)
I had sex once
In a gym.
With a horse.

The horse looked rather confused.
As he looked round at me, his expression almost seemed to say,
"Why have you bought me to this gym? I was perfectly happy in my stable."
And as I jackhammered away at his behind, my thoughts turned to the
Honda Accord parked
in the moonlight.
Oh, yeah
That did it for me.

My duty done,
I let the horse run free.

He galloped.
He ran.
as the wind.
Until he tripped over the rowing machine and broke his neck.

The moral of this story?
Don't go the gym to have sex with a horse.
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 13:59, 6 replies)
I will do summat later
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 13:58, Reply)
more pain than gain
sitting on a recumbant cycle, idling away, i spied a tight and taut fuck toy, step step stepping on the stepper. her glorious arse rhythmically bobbing and clenching with the effort. the sheen of sweat on her exposed flesh glistened like she had been fucking for hours.

simultaneously i nursed an incredibly painful, constricted hardon for many minutes after she had gone

ps, i am not a pervert, nor am i a toucher or a stoat...merely a spectators of the fine 'arts'

EDIT: to say, a few weeks back i saw her getting on the commuter special at 8am, with hot pants on and a titty top that offered excellent access...god help the folk she worked with, even the woman would have started gusset typing.
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 13:57, 6 replies)

Wonder how long it'll be before someone gets either sex or poo into a story...
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 13:51, 1 reply)
First page
Yay! Now I have to think up a story...

Edit: my most shocking moment in a gym was on a treadmill between two old ladies who proceeded to say some shockingly racist things about other gym users. I was too flabberghasted to tell them to stop.

Having been into the powerlifting in my youth, I've seen - and been involved in - my fair share of disgusting things. I've poo-ed my pants a few times whilst straining, and I've likewise had a few nosebleeds, particularly when caught in deep squats without a spotter.

I also perspire 'rather heavily' when doing cardio-vascular stuff, and have been described as totally disgusting by one person, in the summer of I guess 2002. It hurts, it still hurts...

Never mind the length, just feel the striations...
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 13:51, Reply)
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 13:51, Reply)
I went to a gym once.
He fixed it for me.
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 13:49, 1 reply)
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 13:49, Reply)

(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 13:49, Reply)
Firs.. dammit.
Maybe next week.
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 13:47, Reply)

(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 13:47, Reply)

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