Photographites has moved to a blog of its own, that should turn into an art gallery some years from now.
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…and other gymnasium accounts for the doin-nothing-right-now reader. All these are true accounts of people I know and I have not exaggerated any of them. I shan’t be mentioning any names so as to protect identity and prevent embarrassment(‘cos one of these is my own). Without further adieu…
“The guy made me do 4 sets of 10 barbel movements with 20 kilograms of effective weight. I felt great afterwards until I reached home and hit the shower. I realised that I could not rub soap on my chest, my biceps were so bloody stiff.
The “guy” in mention is the trainer of course, and our case now does 25 kg barbels in a closed room so no one has to hear the screaming or for that matter watch the grimacing.
“I couldn’t climb down stairs, walk, or run after four different leg exercises. Not to mention that I couldn’t sit in a slow controlled way or even try and get up. My quadriceps were hurting. Must be those abominable squatting exercises with a load of 25 kilos on my shoulder exclusive of my own weight.”
Then there’s this guy who does bench-chest presses with 75 kilograms effective free weights. He had this to report.
“I sometimes hear a ‘click’ on my lower back when I walk. My wrists are numb so I’m not able to judge how much I’m twisting the throttle on my motorcycle and I think I broke my brother’s hand when I shook it yesterday. And some lesser known muscles under my chin hurt when I laugh. I suspect its those funny facial expressions that I make when I’m ya-know pushing myself.”
I have not seen this guy for about 2 weeks now. I suspect he’s changed timings or is at a local hospital. There is this large lady who’s been at the gym for at-least 3 months on a weight reduction program. She’s lost only time so far. The trainer was as nonplussed as she. He asked her to get some medical tests done—she probably has a thyroid problem is his hunch.
Moving away from the gymnasium some 35 odd kilometres, at my college, we are quite pained by one paper in particular called Heat and Mass Transfer. The former head of the department engages the class and I must say, its nearly as productive as the one-and-half hour bus journey to the institution. All the seniors are celebrating their final days at college. The men showed up in “traditional south-Indian” apparel, which basically is a white single bed-sheet folded around the hip restricting normal walking movement. Running of course is out of the question unless you’d want to be an amusement.
