In Training...Part XII
It felt good to be able to walk away and know someone was smiling behind my back. Not in the bad way, or even the flirty way, or even the “Oh my god, do you see that piece of toilet paper stuck to his shoe?” kind of way. I mean the kind of I made a friend, maybe a friend I can’t take home to introduce to anyone, but what kind of relationship doesn’t let you have your own friends every now and then? Any who.
I headed downstairs to stretch out and shoot some hoops. What? I didn’t tell you that? Well, I found out that I like to shoot the basketball around the court after I stretch to keep myself warmed up. It’s fun, I’m tall, and I can make some shots, so why not? I don’t do it competitively or anything, I throw the ball up, if I miss, I let it bounce twice, grab the ball and shoot it from the second bounce place. It’s my own little game. Sometimes I don’t get to because there are other people in there, and I don’t want to impose on their “game” so I just stretch in the racquetball courts and walk around the gym a little then back upstairs and get on an elliptical machine. I know: BORING! But I’m telling you what I do, so shhh. Hehehehe. Once in the basketball court, I start throwing the ball around, stretching out, and just forgetting the stresses of the week behind me. I normally take about fifteen minutes to get loosened up before heading out to Jack. There just so happened to be no one on the courts today, so I took my time retrieving the ball and such. About ten minutes went by, and I decided to head out and hope my appointment time was close. Impatience boils closely to the surface with me, in case you couldn’t tell.
I wander slowly over to the trainer desk; which is just outside the basketball courts, with my workout book and bottle of water in tow. Jack isn’t here yet, but looking around I spot him with another client in a section of the gym that had previously been for those who can’t make it upstairs to the cardio section as well as for stretching or doing whatever they do on those tumbling mats they used to use in gym class back in elementary school. “Wonder why that section is cordoned off?” I thought to myself. I looked at the clock, I actually had about five minutes before my session was to start, and so I quickly made my way up the steps and look for Erik. He’s slowly walking on an elliptical, almost looking like a toddler just learning to walk. I giggle to myself and head over.
“Hey! Erik!”
“Yeah?” he seems to be out of breath, I guess that’s why I stay on these machines.
“You know what’s going on with that section below here where the cardio used to be? They got it all roped off.”
“Oh yeah! They made it a section for just the trainers and their clients. I guess they got tired of trying to share the equipment with the lunks and made it just for them to use. I hear they’re getting a sign up soon so people quit trying to go in there and workout without a trainer.”
“Wow! So, I’m going to be working out in there instead of the floor? No more pull-ups!” I celebrated. After a couple months, I almost dreaded walking over to the pull-up machine. They’re hard to do, that’s all, no other hidden agenda, just difficult.
Erik gave me a quizzical look and smirked before saying: “Yeah, no more pull-ups for you, but no show for me.”
The problem with the layout of the gym is that unless you’re on the actual gym floor, where all the machines are, no one can see you. Of course, when I say problem, it’s only a problem of a gawker, which I am. You can’t see anyone that’s working in the free-weight section, or in the small cardio section that happens to be behind the upstairs section. It’s weird, but if you think of it in a two-story building it makes sense.
“Sorry. Maybe I’ll make it up to you later.” I say in a voice slightly above a whisper and give a little wink and head back downstairs.
Jack still hadn’t finished with his client and it was actually three or four minutes past my start time. “Meh, I don’t have anywhere to be today.” I thought to myself. It’s become a tradition with Jack and I these past few weeks of training that he might run over a little with another client, but I don’t really care because I know sometimes something comes up and you run a little late for things. So to keep warmed up, I walk around the gym floor, I try to not do it too much; I don’t want to look like I’m stalking someone. About two laps around the floor, and I notice Jack walking back over to the trainer desk; since I was heading that way, I just continued walking over.
“Sorry for being late. She was running a little behind today.” Jack started “I figured you didn’t mind, do you?”
“Nah! I’m good; I don’t have anywhere to be after this. If you ever run too much over, just let me know if you see me around.” I reply. Figure it’s better to give slack than to have him rush someone through his or her workout because I’m in a hurry.
“Thanks!” he states happily. “Let’s get started. How’s your week going so far?”
“Going good, but its only Monday. Oh! I forgot to mention, I might need to change my training days. I went in for a job interview for a part time position and they may want me to come in on my workout days. I’ll keep you posted though, because if they want me to come in on Monday and Wednesday, I’ll see if I can do afternoon work.”
“Okay. Keep me posted.” Jack said as he walked back over toward the racquetball courts, which are in the exact opposite of the new trainer area.
“Where are we going? Isn’t that section over there for the trainers?”
“It is, but we don’t have a pull-up machine over there, so we still have to come over here.”
How in the hell did he know what I said? Was he a mind reader? Oh well! Looks like Erik will still get a little show, but I’ll get him back later.
“Alright Brandon, let’s get ten pull-ups, follow those up with some walking lunges, and finish the set off with some swings.” Let me break that down for you. You see, we’ve made some great progress to this point, I’ve been getting better with my anxiety; as I mentioned a while ago, so we’ve been upping the number of exercises I can do in the sets. As for the ones in this set he mentioned; I’ve already described the pull-ups, walking lunges are just that, you lunge while holding weights and walking. Simple really. And then we have the swings. Oh, how I’ve come to dread these up till now. Okay, how to describe them. First, you grasp a kettlebell or a dumbbell by one end and you place it on the floor in between your legs; which are shoulder-width apart, and slightly in front of you. Then you bend down into a squat position, grasp the handle/dumbbell with both hands and squeeze your ass cheeks together and thrust your hips forward and propel the weight up to shoulder level, then you let it fall down and swing between your legs and bend your knees a little and when it reaches the pinnacle of its arch in between your legs, you repeat the process again. Yeah, we’ve been doing these a lot lately. My ass cheeks are so sore from these. I laugh here because I’ve told Jack “My ass is sore.” And then laugh because I realize that’s not something a gay man should really say to a straight man and not expect his mind to get dirty.
“Alright Jack, but I’m telling you, I don’t need a J-Lo ass here. We’ve been doing these for a couple months now and my loose fit jeans are starting to become slim fit in the ass and thighs.” I joked. He laughed, I like the fact that he’s quick to catch onto my humor, I don’t have to shield what I say really so it’s relaxing as well.
“Let’s get to it!” He starts enthusiastically. So I climb up onto the machine and grasp the handles. Before I lower myself into position, I look up into the cardio section and catch Erik’s eye, he gives me a slight shrug, or he’s about to pass out, and I giggle to myself yet again before I go ahead and start the set.
I made it through the first set of the three exercises without an issue; maybe a little heavy breathing, but when you’re working this hard, that’s bound to happen. Actually, I made it through all three sets of those exercises without an issue. I was surprised. Even Jack was surprised.
“Wow. You certainly have made an improvement!” he stated matter-of-factly.
“Really? I don’t see it.”
“You’re not going to see it. You’re your own worst critic. You see your body everyday, you know your mind better than anyone, and you know what triggers your anxiety more than me. But what I mean is every time you come in here, you show some sign of improvement in one form or another. I know you’re probably over hearing it, but I’m proud of you.”
Wow. I made him proud? Me? I can’t believe it. I mean, I know I’ve been getting a little better at all these workouts he’s been throwing at me, and even without having to take too much of a break. I’ve lost a little weight, but I didn’t think it was anything too major. But I guess those indicators aren’t really what he was talking about. I’ve probably already said this whole diatribe before, but every time Jack tells me he’s proud of my progress, I cherish that. Not in the “Oh my god, he want to have my baby” creepy way, but in the “I can’t believe how much I’ve changed for the better” type.
“Thanks Jack. You know, I tell YOU this all the time too, but if it wasn’t for you, I probably would have quit coming here a long time ago.” My time for confessions to him. “When I had those bouts of anxiety, I thought for sure you were going to laugh at me, or even just give up on me, but the way you took the time to explain what was going on, and even showing me that it really is all in my head really made such a huge difference for me. And I think it’s made me feel like we’ve got a better client-trainer rapport.”
“You’re not kidding!” he said almost non-plus about it. “Maybe we can work on your outfits soon.”
He liked to pick on me sometimes, but I guess because of my new shirt he thought he should get a bigger dig in at some point.
“What’s wrong with my shirt? My friend bought this for me for my birthday a couple days ago.”
“There’s nothing wrong with your shirt, it’s perfectly fine, but I don’t like to work out in anything” Please let him end the sentence there; DEAR GOD let him end the sentence there “that has sleeves.” DAMN. So close.
“Like a tank top?” I asked, curious.
“Almost, but it’s like they took a crew-neck shirt and just cut the sleeves off.” Jack explained.
“When I’m working on my arms, I don’t like to have the bulk of a shirt riding up when I lift my arms.” He demonstrated what he meant by raising his hands over his head. “See, when I go like this with sleeves, that happens” his stomach was exposed. There was that glorious hair trail again. “But when I don’t have sleeves, the midsection doesn’t ride up as much.”
“Ah! I see. You think I should get one of those shirts?” I asked, not because I was horny. Wait, is that the word I’m looking for? Probably. Either way.
“It’s up to you, whatever you’re comfortable in, and with your history of anxiety; I wouldn’t suggest it just yet. Let’s give it some time before you break out the guns. Until then, I like this one.”
“Okay. Onto the next set.” I almost demand, I don’t want to make my time go by faster in the session I really like hanging out, but I want to get to the next set because I might be on the floor where I can catch a glimpse of his crotch at about ‘kneeling-level’. You know what I mean.
So we head away from the pull-up machine and back over toward the trainer desk, we keep going past and into the new roped off section.
“So they made this just for the trainers?” I asked.
“Yep. We’ve been asking for our own area for a while now, it just came to happen a couple of days ago. Now if only we can get some newer equipment up in here.”
“Well, let’s not go crazy now.” I joke. “So what’s next?”
“We’re going to try something new. See these cables here?” He pointed to an a-frame device with two straps hanging down with a handle at the end of each.
“Yeah, I see them. They’re very pretty. What do they have to do with my workout?”
“These are what we’re going to be working out on.” Jack stated.
“And by we you mean you’re going to join me for this complete set?” I quipped.
“Nope, by we I mean you, and I’m going to watch.”
“Oh goody. I figured that’s what you meant. Well, what fresh type of torture are ‘we’ inflicting on me here?”
“These are pretty simple, but can get progressively harder as we change position, so let’s start out pretty far from the base here. You’re going to hold the cables, one in each hand, lean back and let your body be supported from the cables. Extend you arms out in front of you, keeping your palms facing down, pull your hands back towards you, keeping your elbows low and hand at about mid chest height and go back to starting position. These are called Inverted Rows. Let’s do ten of these and we’ll follow them up with some pistol squats. Just move your hands from the handles and about halfway up the strap and hold on, lift one leg up, just off the ground, and with the other leg, lower yourself straight down, keeping your weight on the back of your heel, once you reach your full stretch, push off and come back up and repeat. Let’s try to get eight of those on each side.”
“And then?” I joke. He smiles, mainly because I had to explain where the reference was from, and with him being a movie buff, I’m still surprised he hasn’t seen ‘Dude, Where’s My Car?”.
“No ‘And then’.” He replies. “Let’s get through three sets of these and we’ll see where we’re at.”
“Alright.” I’m a bit nervous. Not because of the new exercises, but mainly because now, with no one else around except for the trainers and their clients in this area, he’s going to be paying more attention to me. I hope I don’t try to stare at his crotch too much.
Grasping the handles of the straps, I nervously lean back, and let my body fall backwards, the slack of the straps takes up and I’m being supported by them. Slowly, I extend my arms out in front of me, and pull my arms back to my side.
“Make sure you keep that core and glutes tight.” Jack corrects my form. So I squeeze my ass cheeks together, and steel my core area as much as I can and keep going. About six or seven in, my arms are about ready to give up or fall off, whichever comes first.
“Ah!” I exclaim and struggle to straighten myself to a standing position. “Got to six.”
“Alright, let’s get into the pistol squats.” Jack starts.
“Like this?” I ask as I raise one leg up a little in front of myself, lowering my body onto my other leg, and try to push myself back up with the other. I look a fool, or at least I think I do. I’m no where near what Jack looked like when he showed me how to do them.
“Let me show you again.” He says as he grabs the straps, one in each hand, moves towards the center of the a-frame, readjusts his grip and lowers his body on one leg. “When you come down, try not to let your body swing backward, which is what you did, try to come straight down.” He demonstrates again. I’m really liking these exercises, when he goes down for the squat, the back of his shorts gets really tight and his ass shows off perfectly. Love it.
“I think I got it.” I say, getting back in there, trying to replicate his form again, and lower myself down and bring myself back up. I must have gotten it right because this time there wasn’t as much strain to come back up.
“Exactly, just make sure you’re driving through the heel. Let’s do seven more then switch legs.” Jack admonished.
As you can probably guess, that set went well too. Not exactly the numbers Jack was looking for, but I pushed myself pretty hard, even harder than usual, just so I can start to see some improvements as well. After we had finished three sets of those two, there was enough sweat dripping down my forehead to supply a drought-riddled country with irrigation water for a week.
“Alright Brandon. How are you feeling?”
“Really?! You’re asking? In case you didn’t notice, I may need a walker to get to the locker rooms, and they’re right there! My legs are about to fall off. I do drive a standard Mini Cooper you know. This ought to make for a fun drive home.” I laugh as I’m saying this to him, a smile spread across his face.
“You did really great work today dude. Same time Wednesday?”
“Unless something changes.”
“See you then! And again, great work!” he says, holds up his fist so I can bump with mine. I make a fist and bump.
“See you then!” I say as I limp slowly toward the locker room.
Turning the corner of the entrance, I can see no one in the first bank of lockers, and no one in the second, where my clothes are. “Good. I can sit for a minute and regain my composure.” I think to myself, head over to my locker and plop my tired ass down on the bench.
A few minutes tick by, and no one still comes into my bank of lockers. I feel a little vigor coming back into my legs, so I stand up and unlock my locker. I pull out my towel, swim shorts, and toiletries. “Wonder if Erik already changed?” I ask myself. But no sooner that the thought crossed my mind, who comes sauntering into the locker room; no one but Jack being followed by Erik about a foot away. Jack doesn’t even take notice of me standing here, but Erik certainly noticed whom he was following into the locker room. As he makes his way over to the bench where I’m standing he mouths “Oh my god!” silently to me. I reply “I know!” silently. He unlocks his locker and gets his gear ready to change. Since we’re both here, we normally change slowly, teasing each other a little bit by taking an article of clothing off at a time and putting it away; but today since my legs are like putty, I decided to just take everything below the waist off in one fell swoop. Wouldn’t you know today just happened to be my day apparently. I had bent over to pull up my swim shorts when the door to the restroom opened up and Jack came walking through. I stood up quickly, making sure to clench my ass, just in case he should look over here. But either he didn’t notice, or didn’t realize it was me, or honestly wasn’t looking, but he walked right by. Erik laughed a little as Jack rounded the corner back to the floor of the gym.
“Really? Did you just flex your ass for him?!”
“Yeah; you got a problem with that?!” I asked with a teasing of anger in my voice. Quickly I reach over and pull down his shorts, making sure to get a fist full of his boxer briefs too, just to bring them down as well.
“Hey!” he starts, but doesn’t move to pull them up. “Unless you’re going to make me cough, next time warn a guy.”
)!! 
