I don’t think the words Master Trainer emblazoned on the man’s back gave me any confidence in his abilities. For one thing when I spotted him I initially thought he was one of the old guys who on doctor’s orders, after years of heavy drinking has to come to the gym to try and squeeze a few more years out of a cirrhotic liver. His shambling gait across the gym floor only added to this impression and I’ll admit I was more than a bit taken aback to see that he was the cream of the crop of a personal trainer. Makes me glad I never bothered.

You see a long, long time ago, in a place called Costa Mesa, where the girls in the gym were incredibly hot and friendly I joined 24 Fitness, mostly in a bid to get rid of the excesses of the binge drinking and general lethargy of writing up a thesis that had taken a toll on my BMI. Of course the girls I saw going into the place on a regular basis weren’t too bad of an incentive either. As I signed the paperwork and paid the exorbitant fees for getting my feet through the door the person I was dealing with asked if I was interested in some ‘discount’ personal training lessons, at around $100 an hour or so.

Eyeing some of the hardbodies around I inquired as to who would be my trainer. Without batting an eyelid the guy in front of me said he would be my trainer. 

I laughed out loud, I was that surprised. I tried in the interests of political correctness and politeness to stifle the laugh and replace it with a sneeze slash cough but I’m not sure how successful I was. You see the guy who was offering me personal training at the rate of a $100 an hour, certified though he may have been weighed somewhere in the region of 300 pounds. I mean this boy was big, from one to the other he was two time zones. Now I may not have a washboard stomach (yet) or bulging biceps or 3% body fat but the ludicrousness of what he was suggesting was hard to escape. I mean would you take English lessons from George Bush? Etiquette lessons from either of the two Silvas?

I mean if you are going to pay an arm and a leg for someone to torture you into fitness levels you’ve never dreamed off, you would hope that person has some concept of how much you are suffering and empathize and inspire. Keep an eye on you to prevent injury, etc.

Not wander off to get a donut when you miss a rep and get pinned to the bench by a barbell.