I was caught in an ethical dilemma. It’s been a long time since I’ve been to a gym and I was kind of missing it. However I wrote a blog about not going to the gym and I made a valid point that not going to the gym was actually good for my comedy career. But you should never discount just how narcissistic I am. On the other hand once I’ve made a decision I stick with it.
My stubbornness to stick by a decision long after I can remember any valid reason for making it is a trait that has some history. A good example occurred a little while ago when a friend asked me why I hate another comedian. Hate is a strong but appropriate word and I hate this man. He is Lex Luther to my lycra body suit with a cape. Yet, when asked why I hated him I couldn’t for the life of me remember the reason. I have hated him for so long now that it’s second nature. All I know is that I must have had a good reason when I started hating him so I continue to hate him almost out of loyalty to my previous decision. I’m the same with my refusal to own a wheelie suitcase. I know they make perfect sense and they’re so much easier but I simply refuse to own one, I’ve always refused to own one and I’ll be carrying my luggage on my shoulder until the day I die.
My point is that joining a gym was out of the question. Even if I hadn’t written a blog on why I won’t go to a gym, I also found out that gyms cost a lot of money in Australia and I’m one for avoiding spending money at every opportunity. But like I so perfectly said before, you should never discount just how narcissistic I am. So I decided to compromise and I bought a set of weights. 2 dumbbell bars, a long bar and 50kg of weights. They came as a set and they cost about 2 months gym membership. So I figured it saves me money in the long run and it saves me the time of going to and from the gym, time I can then use writing. There is no downside… almost.
I bought them from a sports store about five minutes away from my flat. Five minutes is officially not a journey that you are allowed to take a car to, even I know that, so I walked. I paid for the weight set, the nice boy who works in the shop helped me carry them down the stairs at the front of the shop. This is when I quickly realised that I was in trouble: I now had to walk home with 50kg of weights and a 183cm bar. This is the first purchase I’ve ever made that I should have spent several months training for.
The weight set came in a case that had wheels on the bottom of it. It was kind of like a wheelie suitcase, which I hate, but far enough away from the design of a wheelie suitcase for me to be able to use the wheels and keep my principles. There was no way I was going to get it home without the wheels so I had to suck it up and use the wheels anyway.
The case was much shorter than would have been ideal so I had to lean awkwardly to the side to drag it along the footpath, up and down the curb, across the road and then up a hill. All the time holding this almost 2 metre metal bar aloft, like a beacon alerting all around me to my poorly conceived purchase.
In hindsight, a suit was not the most appropriate attire to attempt this journey in. It was a warmish night and here’s a workout tip for you – a leather jacket doesn’t ‘breathe’ when you start to sweat. But I got it home anyway. I made it into the apartment building, up the lift and into the flat. I then had to pull all of the weights out of the case and carry them in several more manageable journeys up the stairs to the bedroom. All except for one particularly stubborn 1.25kg weight that I had to literally crowbar out of the case. I am ashamed to say that I only resorted to using the crowbar after I broke a nail trying to pry it out (clearly I’m not ashamed enough to avoid mentioning it here).
As far as using the weights goes, I fully intend to. Just not yet. After that workout my whole body aches and I hurt my back dragging them home. If only I hadn’t written a blog about not going to see a physiotherapist.
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