Bagram Gym Coach

The gym here on Bagram has become a sanctuary of sorts. I plug my earbuds in and forget about the demands of my day. I've taken to listening to dramatic instrumental music not because I'm a snob, but because it's soothing and it doesn't have those pesky words to think about. Words distract my solace. So do people.


I was conducting a lift that I've started to perform because I'm constantly bombarded by people telling me I need to work on my core. Core this and core that. "The core is the center of the body. If you're core isn't healthy, than you're not healthy." "The problem with traditional lifting programs is it ignores the core." "Core, coRE, CORE!" Jeez. I got it! So, I've started to incorporate core training into my workouts because everybody knows that (fill in the blank with nitnoid fact about core training).

Anyway, it's less of a lift than a motion. I take a 45 pound universal bar and hold it over my head and perform a squat. It keeps my CORE rigid and straight and forces me to tighten my CORE, thus increasing the chances I will outlive my weak-cored great-grandchildren. Apparently, though, I was performing some sort of fitness crime. I watched in the mirror as this concerned citizen dropped his weights and hastily covered the thirty feet between us to tap me on my back. I pulled out my right earbud and looked at him as if to ask, "Is there a bengal tiger about to jump on my back that you're going to warn me about," because the sense of urgency in his approach conveyed the possibility of just that. There was no bengal tiger in the gym.

His breathy warning started out with, "Hey, I'm not one to give out advice on weightlifting..." He should have stopped right there. I advise against telling others prior to dispensing advice that you have absolutely no authority or expertise on the subject you're about to communicate thoughts on. Nothing decreases your audience's confidence in you like starting with, "Look, I don't know what the hell I'm talking about, but here goes..." Yet this gentlemen thought this the best way to introduce his sage wisdom.

His urgent advice? "You should NEVER get up on your toes like that." I intentionally induced an awkward moment by holding my annoyed stare at him for at least three seconds longer than I should have or he deserved. My immediate thought was, "Really? Is there a danger I may spontaneously burst into flames or suffer a rupture of the spleen?" Instead all that came out was an obviously annoyed, "Uh, yeah," which was a shortened version of, "Uh, yeah. GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME BEFORE I BREAK YOUR PELVIS YOU FREAK!"

I was done with that particular exercise...or so I thought. Just because of the gentlemen's intrusion, I didn't do one or two additional sets, but three additional sets of fifteen! And I made sure to practically stand on my toes not unlike Michael Jackson during his Thriller heyday. I felt him staring at me in my periphery as if mentally willing my tibias and/or calf muscles to snap in half so he could stand over me screaming "I told you so! What the hell were you thinking?!" Yet he was out of luck this day. My legs stood strong. Of course even if my legs vaporized, I would have proudly waddled out of the gym with my head held high just to keep him from having any sort of satisfaction.