Are You Working Out Your Ego or Your Body at the Gym?

An Existential Question

I was born a couch potato.

If I could get high from working out. I’d have the self-discipline and motivation to do it all the time. Instead, I pay the big bucks and work with a personal trainer, Malik, four times a week.

Sadly, I’ll only go to the gym if there’s someone counting on me and money at stake. I have to con myself into good health.

Becoming a gym rat has some perks.

You learn a lot about human nature, for one. In between slinging iron and pulling on cables, I study the swagger of aging jocks, the territoriality of the lone wolf, and the complicated etiquette of classes. And as I try not to die between sets, I also learn from Malik.

Like how much people hate to be helped.

When client-free, Malik is supposed to wander and offer tips, correct technique, or the equipment. This part of the job sucks though, because NO ONE WANTS HELP.

He’s given up.

Unless someone’s about to hurt themselves, he’s stopped giving feedback. The guys get ugly and defensive, and the women worry he’s hitting on them. Mind you, Malik majored in exercise physiology, has years of experience, and worked with elite athletes.

Dude knows his stuff.

So why do we gym rats resist feedback from an expert? Why the shame in accepting help? If a doctor told us to get that funky mole on our neck checked out we’d be grateful. Why the double standard?

Photo credit: Danielle Cerullo on Unsplash