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Pumping Rubber

Pumping Rubber
Published by Bob Speck on March 5th, 2009

As I’m sure you’ve gleaned by now, I’m not really a workout kind of guy.
However, even a fitness neophyte like me understands the need for some kind of quasi-strenuous physical activity as a means to attaining my goal weight. Having spent this year’s gym membership money on a cruise to Mexico (oh yes, I will be writing about it), I was forced to seek out an “at home” way to tone up and shed a few more pounds.
My inability to find an appropriate workout video being a matter of public record, I cast an eye towards resistance training. Nothing major mind you, just a couple of dumbbells and I’d be set. Well, the dumbbells proved a problem from the very beginning. First of all, they’re well… kind of heavy, so I wanted to buy them near the house or the office, but the only ones I could find near the office were pink. I have always considered myself a guy secure in his sexuality, but working out with pink dumbbells was too scary even for me. The only weights I could find close to the house weighed all of two pounds and while it is true that I have the upper body strength of a twelve-years-old girl, I didn’t think two pound weights were going to be much of a help in my quest for brawn.
The solution to my “problem” came not in iron or steel, but in rubber. Yep, industrial rubber tubing of varying thicknesses with a handle on either end. And they were already in the house. My partner Jeffrey had picked up a set of these stretchy little fitness tools as an impulse buy a few months ago, and I commandeered the red one (the thickest and therefore most macho) to use for my lunchtime office workout.
I’m sure that serious (and not so serious) weightlifters out there are doing their very best to stifle laughter (at least, I hope you are) as you picture me standing behind my desk doing bicep curls with what is really nothing more than a giant rubber band, all while sweating like A-Rod waiting for the results of his most recent urinalysis. If it’s any conciliation, I believe you, Alex. You’re not the first jock I’ve known who has no idea what’s being put into his ass… in a locker room… at Yankee Stadium… immediately prior to the third game of the World Series. But I digress.
As I’m typing this with sore arm and shoulder muscles, I can only guess that my rubber pumping workout is having some effect, and hopefully one day soon I’ll be able to incorporate other giant office supplies into my fitness oeuvre. I’m sure that there must be someway to do wrist curls with a three-hole punch.

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