Just when I was reaching a low point in my self discipline regarding exercise, hope came at 0900 this last Wednesday. “Hope” ( can’t tell you his real name) walked down the hall, quadriceps flexing, causing a rivet of wrinkling in his Bermuda shorts, his arms jutting out from his side. A chest that must have measured almost two yards made it impossible for his arms to drop lower toward his hips.
Breezing through his history to confirm the main reason for his visit, I saw the word ‘bodybuilder’.
No kidding.
I stayed oh so professional until a coworker that recognized him from her gym, stopped and said “Hello”. Then the Anesthesiologist came. He made reference to how long ‘Hope’ would have to wait before returning to his workout regime.
I was mesmerized by his muscles. No funny stuff here people. Half a century ago I was an athlete. It was all respect. All respect. But I dropped the bar a little just before starting his IV. I asked him to flex his arm for me.
He did.
And I’ve been to the gym every day since. 🙂
