I went to my local gym for the first time in a week and a half today, and one of the trainers, who has been consistently trying to get me to do personal sessions with him, struck up a conversation with me.
It went something like this:
Hot Trainer, if he only had a brain:
Hey, haven't seen you in a while. You been slackin' or are we just on different schedules?
Me (on the bike for about 2 minutes, and already short of breath and sweaty):
I've been slacking, for sure.
When are you gonna take some sessions with me?
Uhm, I don't know. I'm really lazy and unmotivated. I just come here because it keeps me from getting out of my car during road rage black outs.
(laughing uncomfortably) Well, it's all about feeling good. I do this job because I love how people feel when they finally get where they want to be, physically. They get out of the shower and look in the mirror when they're naked and say to themselves "Wow, I look great!"
Uh yeah. I just put my robe on real fast.
(more uncomfortable laughter)
Well, I used to weigh 104 pounds and I'm up to 211 today. My goal is 230...I feel great! I'm going to Iraq in a few months and I'm going to spend my time there really focusing on my body. And when I get back, I'm going to enter my first body building competition, and I'm going to win.
(knowing for sure he wants me to ask why he's going to Iraq, but I really don't care)
Wow, good for you, that's awesome. Then you'll be able to tell everyone where the gun show is.
(real laughter, I think)
Yeah, huh. Something like that.
(trying to think about what else to talk about, I remember who he was with the last time I saw him in the gym)
Are you training that old guy with the cane?
Yeah, I am. I think he's on heroin, or maybe Oxy. Something is off about him.
(struggling to breath and talk at the same time)
Hmm, that's a very big claim you just made. How can you be sure?
Call it instinct.
Alright well, I'll let you get back to your workout. Keep up the good work!
(various mumbles under my breath how he's so cute, and it's just too bad)