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Since people can get more hung up on what combination of steroids to use than how many sets or reps they should do, I figured i'd bump this old story and post it here.
Muscle Memories
By Nelson Montana
I should have known better. Every time I get directions to an unknown destination, I seem to get lost. This time I was headed to a new gym for my workout and normally wouldn’t bother going so far out of my way but a bodybuilder friend whose opinion I trust gave me a free pass and he swore this place was the best he’d seen. Although my taste leans toward the basic “meat and potatoes” type of club with plenty of free weights, I like trying new places, even though at times much of the equipment seems to be more about being fancy than functional. Nevertheless, the change of atmosphere can be just what’s needed. It could be a machine I haven’t tried or a different angle of the curling bar or a novel feel from the leg extension. For some reason, I seem to be a little more sore after working on equipment which is unfamiliar. Maybe it’s the slight alteration in the movement that hits the muscles in a new way, or it could be that muscles and tendons that don’t usually get stressed are suddenly awakened. Whatever it is, it can only help in my quest for more muscle.
But today was different. I was running late and it seemed I was off kilter from when I got out of bed. I was up working until 3:00am the night before and hadn’t slept much so I was feeling a little drained. I went to turn on the car radio hoping to find some ass-kicking music that would get me psyched up when I finally noticed the street where I needed to turn. My buddy told me to look for a sign for “Joe’s Burger Joint” and ten feet farther down the road I’d see the gym. I made the left and there it was – “The Retro Gymnasium.” It was a ratty looking place with a drab exterior, but I didn’t care. I just needed to lift some iron. I drove the car into the lot and pulled into a space facing a huge billboard for Joe’s Burger Joint. “Best Burgers In The World!” was its shameless slogan. That was all I needed to consider stopping in after the workout. Any place that immodestly claims to have the world’s greatest anything will get my attention. (I must confess, I respond well to cheesy hype). Besides, I’m not above some post workout protein in the form of a big greasy burger now and then. We’ll see. But first, it’s time to hit the weights.
I gave a final check of my bag. ‘Yep, everything’s there’ I realized. Wait a minute. Where’s my one day pass? Gone! Frantically, I patted myself down and as usual, it was deep in one of my pockets. I pulled it out, looked it over and let out a sign of relief. It was obvious I was feeling edgy. That’s what happens when deprived of a good nights sleep. I made one more check of everything I needed and put my keys in my bag so I knew where they’d be later. Before heading inside I felt the need to do a little meditation. Relaxing with my eyes closed for just a moment or two allows me to clear my head and get motivated for my workout. After a few minutes, I took a deep breath, stretched my arms out and then slapped my hands together hard. Okay! Time to do it! I got out of the car and headed in. I felt strong. This was going to be a good workout.
As I stepped into the waiting area I was instantly amused by the big burly guy at the desk. He was a classic “corn fed farm boy” in a too tight T-shirt and blue jeans which were ready to burst from the expanding pressure of the tree trunk legs which they contained. His was the kind of physique you don’t see very often these days. It had a rugged muscularity seemingly hewn from lots of hard work and plenty of wholesome food. He sported a shaved head, a handlebar mustache and a pair of arms that looked like they could tear steel spikes in half. He also wore a name tag which read; “Bruno”. Perfect. I handed him my pass.
As is often the case with “freebies” I was expecting to fill out papers, documents and a release of liability statement while providing several forms of I.D. along with enduring the ubiquitous lengthy sales pitch. Instead, Bruno tossed the pass down on the desk and in a fittingly gruff voice, simply said, “Go on in.”
As soon as I walked in I was struck with how unusual this place was. It was stark, bare, almost daunting in its coldness. There were no stationary bikes, no treadmills, no aerobic devices of any kind. Instead, I noticed an area where a couple of guys were tossing around a medicine ball. There was also a heavy punching bag and even a climbing rope! ‘Wow!’ I haven’t seen one of those since high school gym class,’ I thought. As I perused the gym floor I found more surprises that would delight any “old school” bodybuilder. In one corner they had a vertical leg press that looked like it was built from cast iron. There was no angled pad at the bottom of this baby – just a flat mat, as it should be. I’ve always felt the vertical leg press was a more natural movement than the angled sled. Sometimes the simplest design is the best. And what’s this? A curved bench?! Most under-forty bodybuilders have probably never seen one of those but they had a great feel for certain movements. Without hesitation, I immediately did a warm up set of pullovers. As soon as I was finished I noticed they also had a Standing Incline Bench. This is another antiquated piece of equipment rarely seen anymore. Nothing fancy, but it allows for a whole other kind of groove for curls and presses. They even had the foresight to place a hole at the top. I had to chuckle when I thought that most of the clientele at the gym I regularly attend wouldn’t even know that a hole at the top of a bench was there so you can lie face down and do braced lateral raises with a slight backward motion. A great exercise that can’t be quite duplicated any other way.
At this point, I decided to forgo my scheduled back and bi’s routine and made it an “all over” workout. I did a couple of sets of T-bar rows and spider bench curls as well as some V bar dips and tricep pulldowns with a rope so old and tattered you knew it carried a history of scores of bodybuilders yanking feverishly in their quest to build sleeve bursting triceps. At one point, I asked one of the patrons where the ab machines were and he gave me an odd look. “Ab machines?” he asked. He then pointed to the other side of the gym and said; “Over there.” At first I didn’t see anything until I realized there were two straight abdominal boards. In fact, they were called by their original name; slant boards. Ahh, they got it right! I HATE those boards with the angled section that just tend to squash my calves and all the ab boards today have them. I was about to jump into a set when I noticed right next to it was a Roman Chair. Now there’s something that really gets the abs. No cams, handles, seat belts or air bags – just something to hold your feet while allowing you to extend beyond parallel. Once again, it’s nothing fancy, but it works. I did four sets of 25 reps which felt like a thousand reps of ordinary sit-ups.
I was really enjoying this workout and started to seriously consider changing my current membership and joining up. It was worth the extra half hour ride out of my way if it meant getting in a good session every time out. Imagine the gains I could make if I came here every day! The overall atmosphere of the club was also special. Everybody seemed to be serious, yet they were having fun. I couldn’t pinpoint it, but they trained differently --more intense, more focused, yet, less structured. No one was writing in a journal or wearing a heart monitor. It seemed that whatever came to mind, that’s what they did -- as long as it involved lifting something heavy. In one corner, amidst a cloud of chalk and rosin, a group of guys were trading off with sets of cleans and presses. In another section, the screams of serious squatters was music to my ears. And speaking of music, I noticed there wasn’t any playing over a loud system. I asked an employee why. “No music!” he blurted. “Music is a distraction. We’re here to concentrate on our training, not block it out.” I loved this place.
I walked over to the group that were squatting and audaciously asked if I could join in. “No problem,” the biggest of the bunch told me. “As long as you can keep up.” I responded back; “I’ll do my best. Actually, I was going to do some hack squats but I notice you guys don’t have a hack here .” (That was surprising considering the hardcore status the establishment seemed to have). “Hacks?” bellowed one of the group. We’ll show you how we do hacks here!” He proceeded to load a barbell with 25 pound plates until they neared each end of the rod. He then stepped in front of the bar, squatted down and with his arms down at his sides, lifted it from behind and began knocking out what seemed like 20 reps until he finally let the overloaded bar drop to the floor. He took a gulp of air, turned to me, and said; “Your turn.” I never did free standing hack squats and now I knew why. They are brutal! But after a couple of sets my legs were ready to explode! And that’s what it’s all about.
After obliterating my quads I decided to take a little break. I sat with my back against a wall soaking up the atmosphere. I was just then noticing the exposed brick walls which sported faded black and white photographs of some of the all time greats – Scott, Zane, Draper, Reeves. Those old physique photographers sure knew how to capture a vibe. Zeller, Warner, and especially Joe Caruso. Their cameras had magic in them. Or was it the subjects? Or was it the time? Yeah, maybe that was it. The time. Then it struck me. I don’t know why, but I suddenly felt compelled to walk toward the exit. Something was directing me beyond my control. It was as if I was no longer in touch of my mind or body. I felt strange. I noticed weird things. A man struggling with odd shaped kettlebells. Someone was swinging what looked like a bowling pin. I think they used to call them “Indian clubs.” A calendar that hung on the wall revealed what I’d suspected. It was one of those pin-up girl types that were popular in the past. Under the picture of a bikini clad vixen was today’s date: Thursday. April 7th, 1965.
What?
Just then, out of the corner of my eye I noticed the man lifting the kettlebells losing control. Suddenly, the weights slammed to the floor and with a thundering crash I opened my eyes wide . The next thing I knew, I was sitting in my car, looking through the windshield. Ahead of me, a billboard: Joe’s Burger Joint. The Best In The World.
It took me a second to compose myself. “I…I.. guess I must have fallen asleep” I said out loud as if to convince myself otherwise. I wiped the grogginess from my eyes and got out of the car walking into the gym. I still had a workout to do.
As I entered the club, the blare of techno music assaulted my ears. The receptionist “Tammy” who looked as if she’d made a few too many trips to the tanning salon, took my pass. She had fake nails, fake boobs, false eyelashes and hair extensions so I found it ironic when she needed to see two forms of I.D. to make sure I was who I claimed to be. I walked past the ongoing aerobics class, the elliptical machines and the 150 pound trainers subjecting dowdy middle-aged housewives to exercises on a beach ball. I headed into the tiny area which contained a limited amount of dumbells, but no barbells. Fine. I’ll make due. The first thing I did was place a couple of heavy dumbbells on the floor to support my feet and sat across a bench in a makeshift version of a Roman Chair and banged out a couple of sets. There was one other guy there – vaguely familiar looking. He turned to me and said: “Good idea. You don’t see too many people doing those anymore.” “No you don’t” I concurred. I continued on and made the most of my workout. Not great. But not bad. I got done what I needed to do.
When I was ready to leave I passed the receptionist who wanted to tell me about a “one day only” special introductory offer. I stepped up my pace and headed out the door. The guy who was also training in the free area was walking out at the same time.
“Hey, by the way” he said extending his hand out. “Good to meet you. My name’s Bruno”. I laughed. “I’m Nelson. How ya doin’?”
“So I’ll see you around?” he asked.
“Probably not,” I replied. “Just visiting. I had a guest pass but I probably won’t be back.”
“I understand” he said as he began walking away. “These places are all pretty much the same.”
I stood pensively staring out at nothing in particular, throwing my bag over my shoulder.
“Yeah, I know”, I muttered.
But I can dream, can’t I?
__________________
.
Muscle Memories
By Nelson Montana
I should have known better. Every time I get directions to an unknown destination, I seem to get lost. This time I was headed to a new gym for my workout and normally wouldn’t bother going so far out of my way but a bodybuilder friend whose opinion I trust gave me a free pass and he swore this place was the best he’d seen. Although my taste leans toward the basic “meat and potatoes” type of club with plenty of free weights, I like trying new places, even though at times much of the equipment seems to be more about being fancy than functional. Nevertheless, the change of atmosphere can be just what’s needed. It could be a machine I haven’t tried or a different angle of the curling bar or a novel feel from the leg extension. For some reason, I seem to be a little more sore after working on equipment which is unfamiliar. Maybe it’s the slight alteration in the movement that hits the muscles in a new way, or it could be that muscles and tendons that don’t usually get stressed are suddenly awakened. Whatever it is, it can only help in my quest for more muscle.
But today was different. I was running late and it seemed I was off kilter from when I got out of bed. I was up working until 3:00am the night before and hadn’t slept much so I was feeling a little drained. I went to turn on the car radio hoping to find some ass-kicking music that would get me psyched up when I finally noticed the street where I needed to turn. My buddy told me to look for a sign for “Joe’s Burger Joint” and ten feet farther down the road I’d see the gym. I made the left and there it was – “The Retro Gymnasium.” It was a ratty looking place with a drab exterior, but I didn’t care. I just needed to lift some iron. I drove the car into the lot and pulled into a space facing a huge billboard for Joe’s Burger Joint. “Best Burgers In The World!” was its shameless slogan. That was all I needed to consider stopping in after the workout. Any place that immodestly claims to have the world’s greatest anything will get my attention. (I must confess, I respond well to cheesy hype). Besides, I’m not above some post workout protein in the form of a big greasy burger now and then. We’ll see. But first, it’s time to hit the weights.
I gave a final check of my bag. ‘Yep, everything’s there’ I realized. Wait a minute. Where’s my one day pass? Gone! Frantically, I patted myself down and as usual, it was deep in one of my pockets. I pulled it out, looked it over and let out a sign of relief. It was obvious I was feeling edgy. That’s what happens when deprived of a good nights sleep. I made one more check of everything I needed and put my keys in my bag so I knew where they’d be later. Before heading inside I felt the need to do a little meditation. Relaxing with my eyes closed for just a moment or two allows me to clear my head and get motivated for my workout. After a few minutes, I took a deep breath, stretched my arms out and then slapped my hands together hard. Okay! Time to do it! I got out of the car and headed in. I felt strong. This was going to be a good workout.
As I stepped into the waiting area I was instantly amused by the big burly guy at the desk. He was a classic “corn fed farm boy” in a too tight T-shirt and blue jeans which were ready to burst from the expanding pressure of the tree trunk legs which they contained. His was the kind of physique you don’t see very often these days. It had a rugged muscularity seemingly hewn from lots of hard work and plenty of wholesome food. He sported a shaved head, a handlebar mustache and a pair of arms that looked like they could tear steel spikes in half. He also wore a name tag which read; “Bruno”. Perfect. I handed him my pass.
As is often the case with “freebies” I was expecting to fill out papers, documents and a release of liability statement while providing several forms of I.D. along with enduring the ubiquitous lengthy sales pitch. Instead, Bruno tossed the pass down on the desk and in a fittingly gruff voice, simply said, “Go on in.”
As soon as I walked in I was struck with how unusual this place was. It was stark, bare, almost daunting in its coldness. There were no stationary bikes, no treadmills, no aerobic devices of any kind. Instead, I noticed an area where a couple of guys were tossing around a medicine ball. There was also a heavy punching bag and even a climbing rope! ‘Wow!’ I haven’t seen one of those since high school gym class,’ I thought. As I perused the gym floor I found more surprises that would delight any “old school” bodybuilder. In one corner they had a vertical leg press that looked like it was built from cast iron. There was no angled pad at the bottom of this baby – just a flat mat, as it should be. I’ve always felt the vertical leg press was a more natural movement than the angled sled. Sometimes the simplest design is the best. And what’s this? A curved bench?! Most under-forty bodybuilders have probably never seen one of those but they had a great feel for certain movements. Without hesitation, I immediately did a warm up set of pullovers. As soon as I was finished I noticed they also had a Standing Incline Bench. This is another antiquated piece of equipment rarely seen anymore. Nothing fancy, but it allows for a whole other kind of groove for curls and presses. They even had the foresight to place a hole at the top. I had to chuckle when I thought that most of the clientele at the gym I regularly attend wouldn’t even know that a hole at the top of a bench was there so you can lie face down and do braced lateral raises with a slight backward motion. A great exercise that can’t be quite duplicated any other way.
At this point, I decided to forgo my scheduled back and bi’s routine and made it an “all over” workout. I did a couple of sets of T-bar rows and spider bench curls as well as some V bar dips and tricep pulldowns with a rope so old and tattered you knew it carried a history of scores of bodybuilders yanking feverishly in their quest to build sleeve bursting triceps. At one point, I asked one of the patrons where the ab machines were and he gave me an odd look. “Ab machines?” he asked. He then pointed to the other side of the gym and said; “Over there.” At first I didn’t see anything until I realized there were two straight abdominal boards. In fact, they were called by their original name; slant boards. Ahh, they got it right! I HATE those boards with the angled section that just tend to squash my calves and all the ab boards today have them. I was about to jump into a set when I noticed right next to it was a Roman Chair. Now there’s something that really gets the abs. No cams, handles, seat belts or air bags – just something to hold your feet while allowing you to extend beyond parallel. Once again, it’s nothing fancy, but it works. I did four sets of 25 reps which felt like a thousand reps of ordinary sit-ups.
I was really enjoying this workout and started to seriously consider changing my current membership and joining up. It was worth the extra half hour ride out of my way if it meant getting in a good session every time out. Imagine the gains I could make if I came here every day! The overall atmosphere of the club was also special. Everybody seemed to be serious, yet they were having fun. I couldn’t pinpoint it, but they trained differently --more intense, more focused, yet, less structured. No one was writing in a journal or wearing a heart monitor. It seemed that whatever came to mind, that’s what they did -- as long as it involved lifting something heavy. In one corner, amidst a cloud of chalk and rosin, a group of guys were trading off with sets of cleans and presses. In another section, the screams of serious squatters was music to my ears. And speaking of music, I noticed there wasn’t any playing over a loud system. I asked an employee why. “No music!” he blurted. “Music is a distraction. We’re here to concentrate on our training, not block it out.” I loved this place.
I walked over to the group that were squatting and audaciously asked if I could join in. “No problem,” the biggest of the bunch told me. “As long as you can keep up.” I responded back; “I’ll do my best. Actually, I was going to do some hack squats but I notice you guys don’t have a hack here .” (That was surprising considering the hardcore status the establishment seemed to have). “Hacks?” bellowed one of the group. We’ll show you how we do hacks here!” He proceeded to load a barbell with 25 pound plates until they neared each end of the rod. He then stepped in front of the bar, squatted down and with his arms down at his sides, lifted it from behind and began knocking out what seemed like 20 reps until he finally let the overloaded bar drop to the floor. He took a gulp of air, turned to me, and said; “Your turn.” I never did free standing hack squats and now I knew why. They are brutal! But after a couple of sets my legs were ready to explode! And that’s what it’s all about.
After obliterating my quads I decided to take a little break. I sat with my back against a wall soaking up the atmosphere. I was just then noticing the exposed brick walls which sported faded black and white photographs of some of the all time greats – Scott, Zane, Draper, Reeves. Those old physique photographers sure knew how to capture a vibe. Zeller, Warner, and especially Joe Caruso. Their cameras had magic in them. Or was it the subjects? Or was it the time? Yeah, maybe that was it. The time. Then it struck me. I don’t know why, but I suddenly felt compelled to walk toward the exit. Something was directing me beyond my control. It was as if I was no longer in touch of my mind or body. I felt strange. I noticed weird things. A man struggling with odd shaped kettlebells. Someone was swinging what looked like a bowling pin. I think they used to call them “Indian clubs.” A calendar that hung on the wall revealed what I’d suspected. It was one of those pin-up girl types that were popular in the past. Under the picture of a bikini clad vixen was today’s date: Thursday. April 7th, 1965.
What?
Just then, out of the corner of my eye I noticed the man lifting the kettlebells losing control. Suddenly, the weights slammed to the floor and with a thundering crash I opened my eyes wide . The next thing I knew, I was sitting in my car, looking through the windshield. Ahead of me, a billboard: Joe’s Burger Joint. The Best In The World.
It took me a second to compose myself. “I…I.. guess I must have fallen asleep” I said out loud as if to convince myself otherwise. I wiped the grogginess from my eyes and got out of the car walking into the gym. I still had a workout to do.
As I entered the club, the blare of techno music assaulted my ears. The receptionist “Tammy” who looked as if she’d made a few too many trips to the tanning salon, took my pass. She had fake nails, fake boobs, false eyelashes and hair extensions so I found it ironic when she needed to see two forms of I.D. to make sure I was who I claimed to be. I walked past the ongoing aerobics class, the elliptical machines and the 150 pound trainers subjecting dowdy middle-aged housewives to exercises on a beach ball. I headed into the tiny area which contained a limited amount of dumbells, but no barbells. Fine. I’ll make due. The first thing I did was place a couple of heavy dumbbells on the floor to support my feet and sat across a bench in a makeshift version of a Roman Chair and banged out a couple of sets. There was one other guy there – vaguely familiar looking. He turned to me and said: “Good idea. You don’t see too many people doing those anymore.” “No you don’t” I concurred. I continued on and made the most of my workout. Not great. But not bad. I got done what I needed to do.
When I was ready to leave I passed the receptionist who wanted to tell me about a “one day only” special introductory offer. I stepped up my pace and headed out the door. The guy who was also training in the free area was walking out at the same time.
“Hey, by the way” he said extending his hand out. “Good to meet you. My name’s Bruno”. I laughed. “I’m Nelson. How ya doin’?”
“So I’ll see you around?” he asked.
“Probably not,” I replied. “Just visiting. I had a guest pass but I probably won’t be back.”
“I understand” he said as he began walking away. “These places are all pretty much the same.”
I stood pensively staring out at nothing in particular, throwing my bag over my shoulder.
“Yeah, I know”, I muttered.
But I can dream, can’t I?
__________________
.
