Of men and exercise machines
What is it about an exercise machine that compels nearly every man to try and lift ridiculous amounts of weight?
It must be the primordial urge that in earlier times made them beat on their chests and drag women by the hair back to the cave.
A couple weeks ago, Gary and I went to a couple's home to pick up our son, Erik, who stayed there while we went to a Christmas party.
Erik took us to the basement family room of our friends' home to show us their train collection, when lo and behold, there it stood — one of those bow-type resistance-training machines you see on infomercials.
Like a magnet, Gary was irresistibly drawn to it. Immediately, our friend says, "Here Gary, give it a try."
With a gleam in his eye, my husband — who's basic weight lifting experience consists of moving my two-pound dumbbells off the easy chair (guess that tells you how far I got with them) — climbed on and tries to perform the equivalent of bench pressing 250 pounds.
Now, my husband is hardly out of shape. He can run a 5K in good time, carry out groceries all day long, unload trucks, and even carry furniture from our second floor apartment to ground floor, but, bless him, he is no weight lifter.
Within seconds, his face turned red and his eyes bulged. I told him to quit before he hurt himself, but he kept on until he had pulled those bands just a couple inches. Then, he let go and collapsed, breathing heavily.
(Now, lest you think I'm being mean by writing about Gary this way, believe me, he doesn't mind. I'd know if he did.)
Our friend then calls over his teenage son to show us "how it's done." The teen-ager — a really sweet kid with bulging biceps who was a standout on the football team and is getting offers from colleges all over — jumps on and pulls those bands back-and-forth as quickly as my grandma used to clean laundry on a washboard.
The friend then ushers off the son, and climbs on board himself to show us how much he can lift.
I expected them all to begin grunting like Tim Allen used to do on his TV show when he did something particularly macho. And they all gathered around the machine to talk about how wonderful it was.
As we drove away, Gary said he'd sure like to have one of those machines. I replied, "Sure dear, someday when we have a place to put it." Then, he asked if I'd rub his back with some pain buster.
Enough said.
— KATHY HAGEMAN
