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This is a question Gyms

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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They have a new machine at my gym
They have this new machine at my local gym. it's fantastic. I use it every time I go there. In fact, the last time I went there I used it too much and I was really sick afterwards, but I LOVE it!! It's got Mars bars, Snickers, peanuts, chips and all kinds of good stuff!!
(, Fri 10 Jul 2009, 7:51, Reply)
I've got a mate called Gym...
...but he spells it differently.
(, Fri 10 Jul 2009, 6:36, Reply)
Do ashtanga yoga, the breathing and sychronized movement will tone your body more than going to a gym. If you are a fatty, then its your digestion thats fucked and all the treadmills in the world wont help the blubber. You need colonic irrigation, just google mucoid plaque to see whats clogging you up. You eat fruit and veggies for 4 days then its the broth of vegatables( not vegatable broth) just the piss water you get from boiling veggies..for another four days. All the while you shove the tiny hosepipe of an enema bag up you arse twice a day whilst drinking benonite clay and psylium husks, after 10 days you will look and feel ten years younger and shit about 20ft of hard rubber mucoid plaque out of your arse...sorry about the length
(, Fri 10 Jul 2009, 4:43, 15 replies)
Laugh it up...
and then you hit 40 and realise the metabolism of your youth is a sad memory and nearly killing yourself at the gym is the only alternative to giving up drinking, fine food or turning into Jabba The Hutt.
And THEN you realise the gym you've joined because it's the closest to home is gayer than a Tupperware party at Peter Allen's house.
AND THEN you relise when Mardi Gras rolls around each year you really really really should not go anywhere near the shower area unless you're keen on being buggered.
And then you'll be me.
(, Fri 10 Jul 2009, 3:50, Reply)
I went to the gym as a teen
then I realised that a personality would get me girls, and I fucked it off.
(, Fri 10 Jul 2009, 3:22, Reply)
I Joined a Gym
and had a quick visit before work one day, I didn't really have time to use the facilities but seeing as it was a hot summer day I thought I would have a nice refreshing pre work shower.

I was busy for the next few days and couldn't return to check out the gym

I then kept promising myself, I'll go tomorrow, Ill go next week and so on until twelve months later when my subscription had expired i realized that the one and only time I visited the gym the use of the shower had cost £500

Ok, lesson learned, I'll try not to be such a lazy bastard next time
(, Fri 10 Jul 2009, 3:03, Reply)
Gym? What's a gym?

Ohh, a gym
(, Fri 10 Jul 2009, 2:35, 6 replies)
i think the very concept of overtly-masculine men putting on tight shorts and then grunting and straining in front of each other and building up a sweat, and then going into a steamy room and getting naked together while engaging each other in manly conversation and furtively glancing at other men's bodies is so full of metaphor that it makes Oedipus the King look like Dangermouse.
But that's because i'm a stranger to your world.
(, Fri 10 Jul 2009, 1:53, Reply)
Turn On
Right, you don't like me and I sure as hell don't like you. But I'm gonna get on top of you and pound you until I'm all hot and sweaty and spent...

No, this wasn't a conversation I had with my girlfriend, this was a silent little thought directed at the swanky new rowing machine they'd just installed at my gym.

I clambered onboard, grabbed hold of the handgrips, and started pulling with all my might -

- and it was fucking easy! Like driving a knife through hot butter. Fucking EXCELLENT!!! I stepped up the pace. The machine purred like a contented kitten having its tummy tickled.

I was its master.

I was in control.

I was a god among men.

Sir Steve Redgrave? - Suck my hairy plums, mate!

All those years of frantic masturbation had given me superhuman upper body strength!

I was finding it really fucking incredibly, amazingly easy.

After ten or so minutes I realise I'm getting the attention of a few of my fellow gym goers. The men are looking at me in envy, the women all want a piece of me - that special, lovely, spurty piece that tends to do most of my really important thinking.

Olympic gold medal? Piece of fucking piss!!! This rowing malarkys a fucking doddle.

Twenty minutes go by. I've hardly broken sweat. I am king of the fucking waves. In a gym.

Then I notice the incredibly hot female instructor is looking at me. She looks, quite frankly, as if she's wet in the crotch area at the sight of me making this rowing thing look so fucking easy. And they told me it was hard fucking work! Ha! I spit in their faces! I stick two fingers up at them, cup my balls and yell: Phhhppppppp!!!

She's coming over! The incredibly hot instructor is walking towards me. I look as serious and manly as possible and row a little faster. Its so damn easy! Fuck me, I must have superhuman upper body strength.

She's standing just infront of me! She's looking DIRECTLY at me! Yay!!! She's opening her mouth! Yay! She's going to speak to ME! ME!!!

Then she does just that, she speaks: "Sir, I think you might find it more challenging if you turn the machine on," and she reaches down and flicks a switch, and it suddenly feels like I've got two saloon cars filled with concrete on the end of each arm. And the hottie turns and walks away, trying - but not too fucking well - to hide a smirk.

(, Fri 10 Jul 2009, 1:08, 4 replies)
I'm kind of
a health freak. By this I mean, I am very vain and love being very well muscled and toned. I smoke a lot, drink a lot, used to take a variety of substances but got a bit bored of it, I eat terriblly (Student budget. Hurrah! Hobnobs first week after money comes through, beans afgter that), consider a reasonable breakfast to be "Beer and multivitamins). I also happen to climb frequently, work out for between 90 mins and 2 hours a day, walk everywhere, attend gymnastics occasionally, and dip into various other sports randomly. I want the best of both worlds.

I don't attend to gym very often now, as I have my own set of weights, and prefer rockclimbing anyway, but I've seen some odd ones in there whilst I did.

After a while, I learnt the times of week to avoid my local gym, as they had an "At Risk Group" for people at risk of heart attacks. 3 times a week, lardy cunts wrestling away with the machines, sweating, panting, and spending a lot of time pretending to be queuing to use the water fountain.

Avoid the times set aside for free entry if you're on the dole. It's not that the scum who come in there are nasty, they're actually quite friendly and give good advice as a rule. It's just that they are so horrendously built that you feel genuinely ashamed. You toil away every day, and they seem to only come during cheap scroungers hour, yet they could clearly rip you limb from limb.

Go when other people are at work. Non-students/slackers are often at work 9-5, so try and get your gym session in during this time if you can. People who work 9-5 are often post-menopausal women, who tend to sit on the abdomninal isolator and not do anything, or serious looking business men who are dying inside and are coming to the gym after work to avoid going home to the wife who doesn't love them and the children they don't understand anymore.

Find a gym with a free swim included. Going to the sauna after a workout is a failure, saunas are full of obese, naked men. See many people who are actually toned or wellbuilt in there? Nope? That's because we're doing exercise instead of trying to lose weight without doing anything. Swimming afterwards is a better warm-down, more relaxing, and has the added benefits of making people stare at your tattooed feet.

Being well built is deceptive. Whilst I am rather ripped, I can't run more than 400m, am generally tired (Probably related to diet), and have constantly aching joints. (Mostly fingers, neck and back. Wrist as as wlel atm due to an RSI. Piano, not wanking. I'm doing grade 8 this year and my body felt an RSI woudl help with this)
(, Fri 10 Jul 2009, 0:07, 4 replies)
Colon Shaker
During a yoga class one time this woman, after performing the squatting crab or leaping salmon or whatever the fuck its called, let off a long, slow, warbling fart as she slowly returned to an upright position. The class giggled like school children. The woman went red and hid her face, embarrassed. The teacher – an incredibly fit blonde Jamie Lee Curtis look-a-like only with even bigger, even perter knockers said: “There's nothing to be ashamed about passing wind – its perfectly natural to release gas when you perform these exercises.”

A green light to pass wind? Fair enough. I'd been brewing a beauty for some time – blame it on the quarter pounder and chocolate milkshake I'd had at lunchtime.

I let rip the mother of all colon shakers, this fucker was so loud and so calamitous, had so much raw and awesome energy, I reckon most of the assembled class thought a hand grenade followed by a series of fire crackers had just gone off from my position at the back of the room. It was like a mighty, lingering t-rex roar – hamburger mixed with chocolate milk have a strange effect on my arsehole.

Blonde Jamie Lee Curtis looked over at me – we'd had a few run ins previously*, so she knew my name, and she spoke like she was addressing a puppy that'd just shat on her best, most expensive Persian rug: “Mr Hanky – my comment was directed at those taking part in the yoga lesson only. Not those residing in the chill out area...”

Well that fucking well told me...

* (don't advise a lady, even in a jokey way, that as she's wearing tight Lycra you can tell she hasn't tended the lady garden that week – apparently a woman's pubic hair growth is her own concern)
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 23:59, 5 replies)
my friend and i
used to go after work sometimes. this being a reasonably swanky london gym, they had nice dispensers full of body lotion, cleanser and moisturiser by every mirror and sink.

after a session one night, we went to the pub for a different session. when vix came back from the bar, i noticed that her face looked like mine felt - red, tight, shiny and a bit sore. i quizzed her, and we pieced together the fact that both our faces had been like this after the gym for quite some time. oh damn, an allergy to exercise, then, what a crying shame.

or not. turned out the "moisturiser" was actually liquid soap, and we'd just been rubbing that into our faces and not washing it off... as a skincare regime, i don't recommend it, unless the freshly plucked chicken is a look you are going for.
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 23:23, 1 reply)
Used to work in a gym,
mainly in the female changing rooms, and saw some strange sights.

Possibly the weirdest was the chubby middle-aged yoga enthusiast who'd shower, then dry herself with the hairdryer. In front of the mirror.

She'd stand naked and dry her hair, then face, neck, shoulders...

Then she'd lift each pendulous breast and waft underneath it, and eventually heave a foot onto the vanity unit and dry her crotch.

She'd apparently do this in front of small children, so they got a full close-up of the Wall Of Death.

As nobody else had the nerve to challenge her, I was lumbered. I watched her up to the leg-cocking phase, then pounced and asked her to put it away.
She was nice about it - 'Has there been a complaint, then?'
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 23:06, 4 replies)
Resident Perv - Part 2
This gym had an open plan shower room like you get at Rugby clubs, but with less fisting and rulers up bums.

I had just got out from my workout, 5 mins rowing, ten mins bike, 3 walking laps around the gym and a fuck this, I'm going home. I head to the changing room and I'm alone aside from someone showering in the adjoining shower room as detailed above. The man in the shower started making violent grunting noises so naturally I assumed he was having a heart attack. Without thought of the potential soaking my sweat free gym costume could get, I burst in there to save the day.

What I saw haunts me this very day.

This bloated, middle aged man, about 18stone of pure gut was leaning against the tap keeping the shower running with one hand and furiously tugging with the other, hence the grunting.

Completely oblivious to my presence, he carried on for what felt like the longest 2 seconds of my life as I tip toed back out of there in the most English manner imaginable and wandered around the sports hall for ten minutes before returning. A fair time I felt to let the man relieve himself.

Length, I couldn't tell under the gut.
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 23:00, Reply)
These things happen to me.
I once had free use of the gym at the educational establishment I worked at. Wasn't the most equipped gym, but the machine room had a cross-trainer, two treadmills, two rowing machines and a handful of bikes of varying antiquity.

Anyway, I used to go with a few people from my office, we'd start with a jog around campus, and on this eventful evening a gent who I was trying to impress who'd just started coming with us was first up on the treadmill. I ended up on the rower, and bided my time until the moment was right and I could get on the treadmill next to him.

The second treadmill was a basic, very old one, with no horizontal bar across. It had moments of unreliability, but to be honest I didn't mind that the best information its tiny LCD gave out was km/h and estimated calories. The other machine gave out heartrate, distance achieved and likelihood of Carole Thatcher incursion.

This particular night, while I was at girly-running full pelt next to him, sweat emerging from every pore and panting like a police dog in Nottinghamshire - the power went off in the gym.

Hunky new bloke described the moment as thus:
"One minute you were running like a spaz, then the lights went really dim, a loud clattering and slapping sound, followed by a thud and when the lights came back on, there was a smear of blood down the wall and you were in a heap in front of your machine."

I broke my nose, glasses and self-respect on that night.
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 22:56, Reply)
Resident Perv - Part 1
It wasn't me, my perversions were well hidden and restricted to getting on the running machine behind a fantastic bum, motivation indeed to run that little extra distance.

This guy was an absolute, out and out creep. The gym I was a member of (Clements Hall in Hockley, Essex for those in the area) had the cardio machines taking up the most of the room and the weights facing them, so steroid glove wearers could make sure everyone saw them. This short, balding, comb over man perpetually in his red T-shirt and suspiciously baggy jogging trousers would position himself on one of the weight machines, put his hands in his pockets and watch over the running machines practically drooling and rubbing himself for hours at a time.

What bothered me about this wasn't the pseudo masturbation (see above), but the fact that he would hog the machine not allowing anyone brave enough or blind enough to go near it.

And let's face it, I wasn't the one going to wipe it down afterwards.
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 22:51, Reply)
The gym I used to belong to
had a carpark. I hardly ever saw any bikes other than mine in it either.
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 22:30, Reply)
I joined a Cannons (Nuffield) in Portsmouth
And my regime was simple: half hour in crosstrainer, half hour on treadmill, few weights, bits of stretching and an hour in the pool. Easy enough, really.

When I moved to London, I did an intro day with my other half at Richmond. Got all new stuff for him, was going to sign him up.

Until he did 5 minutes on the crosstrainer on easy before whingeing. Then collapsed after another 5.

Lazy shit.
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 21:28, 2 replies)
exercise, then have others do your work
While in grad school, I worked in a grocery store in Iowa. Inevitably, when a yuppie requested curbside loading of their bags, they had their exercise bag in the trunk. After coming from the gym and working out, they couldn't even lift their own bags into their SUVs.

At least the white trash were overweight and lazy.
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 21:05, Reply)
I belong to a chain here in the US. So far, all but one of their franchises are near (if not next to) an all-you-can-eat buffet restaurant.

Not sure how many peple go to both.
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 20:59, 2 replies)
I used to go. I need to start agin to loose the flab and get fit. Sigh.

I hate it.

It's one place where I am even less attractive than usual. Firstly, there isn't a sports bra on earth that can prevent my stupid, oversized tits from bouncing like Tigger on acid. Secondly, my face sweats and abnormal amount and I go bright red. Thirdly, I puff, pant and moan like a low grade porn star.

All in all it is a sorry and unattractive sight.

Length...any would be good at the moment.
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 20:14, 37 replies)
Someone please tell me:
1: Why do people drive to the gym? If people walked or biked to the gym (or anywhere else) most wouldn't need to go to a gym.

2: Why do people come out of the gym and immediately light up? I can see a cheaper way to get fit there.

Unless people don't go to the gym for the exercise....
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 19:48, 3 replies)
A mate of mine
Long time listener first time caller here.

Whilst I had fairly boring, average experiences of the gym up the road, I gave up visiting that hell-hole ages ago, however, my old friend Kujo let me in on a little trick used commonly amongst the 'hench' community.

Step 1- Go to the gym
Step 2- run 10 minutes on treadmill, lift a few weights.
Step 3- visit toilets, rub a shit-ton of speed into your gums, down a mass of protein shake and.. well... Job done.

I once went to watch Kujo at the gym, it was an amazing experience, he was lifting weights far heavier than he would normally do at an unbeleivable pace.
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 19:46, Reply)
Running machines...
... are unintentionally hilarious.

I go to the gym 2 - 3 times a week, mainly to workout but do enjoy people watching. I am the bloke in a rugby shirt plugged into my headphones in my own little world though...

Anyway, was in a gym in cambridge near where I lived at the time and watched, tears of laughter falling down my face, as a guy misjudged a treadmill, fall, and get catapulted off the back not once, not twice, but THREE times in as many minutes.

Mind you, I'm no better. I cant run in a straight line for long and once executed a perfect rugby side step. At full tilt. Didn't hurt myself, but really surprised the poor girl on the machine next to mine.
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 19:36, Reply)
Gym, what's a gym? (In the voice of H. Simpson)
Seriously though. What's a gym? Is that where attractive, nubile young women go? Or where fat, sweaty blokes like me go, to be a bit more sweaty and show off our fat deposits to a bigger crowd.
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 19:22, Reply)
How to get fit
Okay, I've been in gyms before; but frankly nothing interesting happens in gyms. Unless you're one of the roidhead weightlifters whoo goes to homoeroticise it up with your mates, there's little in the way of social interaction. So, I'm going to give you the dubious benefits of my wisdom on how to get fit without spending the equivalent of an XBox 360 every year on gym membership.

Shockingly, my advice is this: Run. Unless you live in a place where you can't actually step outside without fear of death, you should be able to find some decent running routes. Find a friend with which to do it, because there's always a little extra motivation when you're with someone. Go to a proper running shop and get your feet tested to see whether they pronate or not - this could save you from injuries in the long run. I've never understood why anybody bothers with a treadmill. First, think of you're running action: When you run on a road, you drive yourself forward with your stride. A treadmill, on the other hand, pulls your feet back: It's therefore doing half the work for you. Second, treadmills are boring. Get out there and see the world! And if you wind up getting chased by chavs or dodging bullets in Croxteth, that's just a little extra motivation.

If you're a fatty and can't run for any length of time, start off by walking, for about an hour at a time. Then mix short sections of run into your walks; set yourself targets (i.e. I'm going to jog from this lamp post to that bus shelter 500m away) and then make damn sure you meet them. I'll say that again: NEVER fail to achieve your own targets or you may as well just slink off the MacDonalds with the rest of the tubbies. As a complete beginner, your goal should be to run for about 40 minutes non-stop. If you can do this three times a week, you should really start to lose the pounds.

Once you're more established, consider your times. For under-30's, I would say that if you can run 2.5km (that's just over 1.5 miles) in under ten minutes; and you can run 10km in under forty minutes, you may ordain yourself "not crap" at running. You're not Paula Radcliffe yet, but you're probably swifter than most of the people in your age group.

Some final thoughts:

- www.mapmyrun.com is a great resource for measuring out routes and finding out just how far you've run.

- Aches and pains are par for the course, especially when you're just starting out. But if anything is really agonising or persistent, rest it and see a doctor or a physio. This especially applies if the pain is in your knee: Once fucked up, your knees are terribly hard to unfuck.

- You may need to stop and take a breather every now and then. So long as you don't take the piss, that's fine. But never stop halfway up a hill: Always make it to the top of ahill, and then even if you're blowing out of your arse, you'll get a psychological edge.

- Lots of people like cycling, as it's easier on the knees.

- Take up a team sport. It's fun, it gives you something to train for; and even if you play like a spastic, your running fitness should enable you to impress teammates with your hustle.

So hit the road, foo'.
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 18:59, 10 replies)
Dead fit.
Not a funny story (my posts rarely are...)

I was sent to gym a couple of days ago - I'm a paramedic and was sent to back up another crew. A guy in his early thirties had pushed himself a bit too hard.
He complained of chest pains and then had a cardiac arrest - apparently he had a history of a mini-stroke (TIA) and possibly heart problems too.
He got some *excellent* CPR from the gym instructor which gave him the best fighting chance and the efforts of the attending crews resulted in a return of cardiac output.
We got him to hospital heart-still-a-beating and he went into Intensive Care.

Sadly, he died yesterday.

It makes me think a bit about my own health and fitness. I'm in my late forties, smoke like a chimney and don't really look after myself - and a poor young guy just trying to look after himself ends up dying...

*Sorry to be so morose and serious, but have a chat with your doctor if you are going to undertake any major exercise regime that you are not used to - especially if you have a history (or family history) of health problems.
We don't want to lose any b3tans to that great CDC in the sky now do we?!

(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 18:19, 2 replies)
i love the gym
despite my less than svelte appearance i hit the gym about 4 times a week to lift some weights, punch the bag thing, swim, row etc, i'm pretty strong and fit for a fatty.

You do see some daft things:

The annual peaks for new years resolutions and bikini season are amusing, seeing folks show up three times in their brand new kit, run one day a week for 2 weeks and then vanish.

Chavs goading each other into lifting oversized weights with poor technique and injuring themselves.

Skeleton girl showing up twice a day instead of eating.

I think the saddest thing i ever saw was folks perparing for a spin class (group cycling for masochistic sweat beasts) they show up 15 minutes early and started putting towels on the bike they wanted before going off again, like German tourists with sun-loungers. I felt ashamed for the nation.

It's good tho, nice community feel, generally good vibes. I recommend it.
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 18:00, 4 replies)
We've all done it
Smashing along on the treadmill that first thought pops into your head. Of course it's discounted straight away, but like a particularly smelly fart it always finds a way out.

As the thought germinates you feel your body going through the motions, it's like a trained army unit - every necessary component does what it's supposed to without any conscious decision.

Finally, mid-stride your legs tense, you jump and...

...rather than executing a perfect twist in the opposite direction with an impeccable dismount that would make OkGo applaud, you fall over and get tangled up in the rubber of the treadmill - losing half the skin on your thighs in the process.

Doesn't stop me doing it every bloomin' time though!
(, Thu 9 Jul 2009, 17:52, Reply)

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