Tuesday, February 8, 2011


So this is the male version of what goes down during an aerobics class that he (Guest Blogger Brett) and I, participate in down at the gym. He actually wrote this long before I wrote mine and you can see-we have similar views...he was kind enough to be a guest blogger and share his first experience with instructor Bee. You've read about her here on several occasions. But we love you Bee. If I don't say that she'll literally kill us at the next class-which Guest Blogger Brett has already come up w/an excuse to miss. He wants to live long enough to run the Mercedes this weekend. We have big fun at 5 in the morning...nothing like a room packed full of people, burning some calories before work.

I walked into the 5:15 Step 'n Sculpt class as it is so deceivingly referred as. I introduced myself to the instructor, a very, tone attractive lady who introduced herself as "Bee". Bee told me what to do in order to set up my station and which weights I would need. Bee said, and I quote “I am not trying to insult you, but get the 5 lbs dumbbells for starters”, so I took her advice into consideration and grabbed the 10 pounders (2nd mistake of the morning, the first was walking into the class, I would later find out), and we are off………..

We began with a “simple” warm up. We started with some stepping exercises, side to side, grapevine, step/tap, etc. At this point I am not sure what is going on but it appears I am stepping on beats 1 and 3 and everyone else is stepping to 2 and 4, arrogantly I thought “white women have no rhythm and/or concept of staying to the beat” OOOHHH YEEAAHHH! Did I mention I am the only dude in the class? So warm up is over and we are into the workout, a light weight, high repetition workout, I have come to realize. We do lunges, squats, steps, for the legs right out of the gate, and after 5 minutes I am breathing quite heavily, and feel a twitch in my hamstrings (or hammies as we gym rats refer to them), but I am doing okay, and thought this will be a welcomed relief to my normally strenuous workout.

Next comes chest and arms, we begin chest presses with the weights and butterflies, after a few minutes I develop a case of shaky arm, I am starting to break a good sweat, now my legs and arms are twitching. “Better work out than I anticipated” I thought to myself. “Now back to legs” Bee says. “What! I thought we had already done that” I murmured under my panting breath. So, my arms are shaky, my legs are tired, and we are still working on them. I noticed a bifurcated tail start to appear from the lower back of the seemingly sweet Bee. I am now hurting, breathing heavily, sweating more, and wishing I was home.

“Biceps” says Lucifer, uuughhh Bee I mean. We start a bicep workout using those stupid dumbbells again. I pick up the 10 pounders and fall into cadence. “God, help me” up and down, up and down, up and down! I am struggling, to say it mildly! “Okay, I should have went with the 5 pounders” I thought to myself, geez, I am even panting when I think now! At my last count we did 313 repetitions (or reps as Bee called them), of bicep curls, I am spent!!!! I am now in agony, breathing is beyond heavy, profusely sweating, and wishing it was 6:15 (the end of class).

“Shoulders” Bee screams, as her eyes turn to red, her demonic horns begin to appear, and her bifurcated tail sways back and forth to the beat of the “club” rendition of the Commodores “Brick House”. I now loathe Bee! My delusional mind concludes there is a special place in Hell for Bee, and she couldn’t get there quick enough as far as I am concerned and if she needs a ride there, then jump in shotgun with me for a ride on the express, sweetheart, and I will open the door for you on arrival. “Back” Bee roars, with her demonic voice, and her little female minions do as instructed. At this point, I am praying for death, sweated out, and contemplating striking Bee in the back of the head with the dumbbell, if only I could lift it!

Finally, Bee the Ghoul, as I now call her, said “good job guys, have a wonderful day” I lay there on the cool floor praying for Rapture or some form of projectile vomit to relieve my fatigued body. I caught my breath, and slowly rose to a sitting position, Bee came over to me, and offered me a hand to get me on my feet. I, dejectedly, accepted, I had no choice really; I knew I couldn’t do it on my own at that point. She encouragingly patted me on the back and sweetly said “Good job, Brett!” and then asked “See you on Friday morning?” I looked at her angelic face, “when did that happen” I thought, and I said to Bee the Ghoul, “Yeah, well, don’t count on it Legion. I’ll not submit myself to your forces of evil, and your eccentric circles of Hell, you call a workout anymore!!!!” I put up my equipment away as any good Christian would do, I limped to the locker room, stood under the tepid water of the shower, and cried like the day I was born.

~Guest Blogger Brett~

In no way am I to be punished for Brett's point of view when I go back to The Gym. I would never call an instructor Lucifer-though most of them are demonic and feed on the common man's pain and agony. In fact, I credit the Evil Instructors for making me a kinder person each day. If you can survive a full hour of one of these classes-it's hard NOT to feel good. And if I see one of the other participants on the street, we only share a nod and half grin because "The first rule of Fight Club is..." well, you get it...

Stay tuned for Guest Blogger Brett's take on the spin class!

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