January People, on Dispatch from the Razor's Edge

Plus: The Views From My Window

And: Bale Out! Just One More Time

Well, there actually aren't all that many January people, this year, at my new-ish health club. (Then again, there aren't too many regulars either, at least at the carefully off-peak time I go).

But, yeah – you know the January people:

The young, pumped guys – grunting, picking up way too much weight, not controlling it properly, then letting it crash to the mat like a construction site disaster. Then high-fiving each other.
The huffing, panting, badly overweight people who haven't gotten five minutes of exercise since last January, dripping rivers of sweat onto the machines, and basically not being entirely fun to look at or be around.
Middle-aged disco queens trotting in and out of 'Body Pump' and 'Legs, Bums, and Tums' in fresh-from-the-packaging lycra.
Weird spiritual guys doing wildly kinetic things in the exiguous and perilous confines of the free-weight area. (What are those guys doing?)
F*&�-heads gabbing on their mobiles in the changing room.
Other f*&�-heads dropping dirty towels and empty water bottles wherever they stand, just because they're so important that someone else should pick up after them, and the rest of us should just wallow in their golden detritus in the meantime.

But, then again, everywhere there's a simple and irresistable solution to the January People: February. Then we won't have to see them again for another eleven months.

My new-ish club, by the way, is the Club & Spa at County Hall. You might recognise this (County Hall) as the classical building, with the colonnaded crescent, across Westminster Bridge from the Houses of Parliament. Look upon my club, punks, and tremble:

Here's the view I see from my stretching mat:

Here's what I see in the mirror, over my shoulder, when I'm lifting:

And a propos of nothing, except that I heard it yesterday, and it's going to remain in my workout playlist probably until the end of time, and because it just never ever gets old, here's "Bale Out" just one more time. You're welcome.

Download the song for free from the web site of its uber-talented creator, RevoLucian.

exercise rants

Dispatch from the Razor's Edge is owned and operated by novelist, technologist, vegan, exercise junkie, classical liberal, rambler, and Londoner Michael Stephen Fuchs.

Fuchs is the author of the novels The Manuscript and Pandora's Sisters, both published worldwide by Macmillan in hardback, paperback and all e-book formats (and in translation); the D-Boys series of high-tech, high-concept, spec-ops military adventure novels – D-Boys, Counter-Assault, and Close Quarters Battle (coming in 2016); and is co-author, with Glynn James, of the bestselling Arisen series of special-operations military ZA novels. The second nicest thing anyone has ever said about his work was: "Fuchs seems to operate on the narrative principle of 'when in doubt put in a firefight'." (Kirkus Reviews, more here.)

Fuchs was born in New York; schooled in Virginia (UVa); and later emigrated to the San Francisco Bay Area, where he lived through the dot-com boom. Subsequently he decamped for an extended period of tramping before finally rocking up in London, where he now makes his home. He does a lot of travel blogging, most recently of some very long walks around the British Isles. He's been writing and developing for the web since 1994 and shows no particularly hopeful signs of stopping.

You can reach him on .

Most recent

Most read

Most commented

By tag

Related

Dispatch from the Razor's Edge is owned and operated by novelist, technologist, vegan, exercise junkie, classical liberal, rambler, and Londoner Michael Stephen Fuchs.


2023 >> 2022 >> 2021 >> 2020 >> 2019 >> 2018 >> 2017 >> 2016 >> 2015 >> 2014 >> 2013 >> 2012 >> 2011-12-20 2011-12-19 2011-12-16 2011-12-10 2011-12-04 2011-11-13 2011-11-11 2011-10-21 2011-10-20 2011-10-17 2011-10-13 2011-10-06 2011-10-05 2011-10-03 2011-09-30 2011-09-29 2011-09-11 2011-09-06 2011-08-10 2011-08-09 2011-08-08 2011-06-07 2011-05-19 2011-05-08 2011-05-06 2011-05-02 2011-04-28 2011-04-27 2011-04-26 2011-04-16 2011-04-15 2011-04-13 2011-03-23 2011-03-21 2011-03-18 2011-03-17 2011-03-16 2011-03-15 2011-03-11 2011-03-09 2011-03-04 2011-03-01 2011-02-17 2011-02-14 2011-02-12 2011-02-11 2011-02-10 2011-02-07 2011-02-06 2011-02-04 2011-02-03 2011-02-01 2011-01-31 2011-01-29 2011-01-28 2011-01-27 2011-01-26 2011-01-21 2011-01-20 2011-01-12 2011-01-11 2011-01-10 2011-01-08 2011-01-07 2011-01-06 2011-01-05 2010 >> 2009 >> 2008 >> 2007 >> 2006 >> 2005 >> 2004 >> 2003 >> 2002 >>	January People Plus: The Views From My Window And: Bale Out! Just One More Time Well, there actually aren't all that many January people, this year, at my new-ish health club. (Then again, there aren't too many regulars either, at least at the carefully off-peak time I go). But, yeah – you know the January people: The young, pumped guys – grunting, picking up way too much weight, not controlling it properly, then letting it crash to the mat like a construction site disaster. Then high-fiving each other. The huffing, panting, badly overweight people who haven't gotten five minutes of exercise since last January, dripping rivers of sweat onto the machines, and basically not being entirely fun to look at or be around. Middle-aged disco queens trotting in and out of 'Body Pump' and 'Legs, Bums, and Tums' in fresh-from-the-packaging lycra. Weird spiritual guys doing wildly kinetic things in the exiguous and perilous confines of the free-weight area. (What are those guys doing?) F&�-heads gabbing on their mobiles in the changing room. Other f&�-heads dropping dirty towels and empty water bottles wherever they stand, just because they're so important that someone else should pick up after them, and the rest of us should just wallow in their golden detritus in the meantime. But, then again, everywhere there's a simple and irresistable solution to the January People: February. Then we won't have to see them again for another eleven months. My new-ish club, by the way, is the Club & Spa at County Hall. You might recognise this (County Hall) as the classical building, with the colonnaded crescent, across Westminster Bridge from the Houses of Parliament. Look upon my club, punks, and tremble: Here's the view I see from my stretching mat: Here's what I see in the mirror, over my shoulder, when I'm lifting: And a propos of nothing, except that I heard it yesterday, and it's going to remain in my workout playlist probably until the end of time, and because it just never ever gets old, here's "Bale Out" just one more time. You're welcome. Download the song for free from the web site of its uber-talented creator, RevoLucian. Tweet exercise rants ← before \| 2 comments ↓ \| after →