Gold's Gym

As an interesting side note, fitness trainers here in RP (Republic of the Philippines) do most of the work for their clients. Filipinos who have the cash to work out pay folks to do the work for them. I am constantly amazed to see women sitting at the machines moving the weights in a perfunctory manner without missing a letter on the textmessage-de-moment. Or in the case where the weights are heavier than the average cockroach, the trainer moves the machine through its arc on behalf of the client. Life here is about status…I go to the gym. I have a trainer. Look at me. I have a fat belly. Fitness is not a goal, I can pay!

Why just yesterday I was on the elliptical machine (dripping sweat all over the floor) and the fellow on the machine next to me was on the cell phone. The automatic voice-volume adjustment kicked in and the conversation went like this: Fellow: HELLO. HELLO? HELLO? HELLO! YA! I’m at the gym. GYM. GYM. GYM. EXERCISE. A PLACE TO EXERCISE. HELLO? RUNNING. EXERCISE. RUNNING. I AM RUNNING RIGHT NOW. TO GET INTO SHAPE. YA. SHAPE. GYM…. I could actually feel the confusion of the guy on the phone – what is a gym? And why would anyone go to a place like that? Isn’t life hard enough without extra exercise? How much do you pay for that? I could feed my whole family for 10 years on your membership fees, jerk.