Saturday, 2 October 2010



Where the devil did Gym Ninja go? Well, Gym Ninja fell off the face of the blogging planet mostly due to a dead Mac and only a piddly little Macbook to type on in it's place.   The Ninja Mac died a thousand deaths of sudden white-screen hard drive failure, and is still being rebuilt akin to the Million Dollar Man, at Apple Hospital. It's been nearly 2 weeks and counting...*gulp*  

HOWEVER....Gym Ninja has not slacked off the workouts even if she has slacked off the blogging. Nosireebob!  Gym Ninja must lead by example when it comes to staying fit & motivating her clients...

Now it was a week or so ago when Gym Ninja's tolerance (and this is a word pushed to it's absolute limit) was seriously tested. The private gym where GN trains a lot of her clients is located at a city centre hotel, & the hotel itself was full to bursting with political types. T'was apparently host to an annual conference for the Liberal Democrats and the place was literally crawling with grey suited serious types wearing yellow ribboned 'Jim'll Fix It' conference badges, a whole load of corduroy & a 'losing the will to live' face....Oh and those carrier bags full of junk they do insist on handing out at such things? The hotel effectively had rivers of blandness flowing through it's doors. Obviously this didn't bode well for motivating one's client, however Gym Ninja remained optimistic as the gym area was pretty much always deserted. It was merely the main areas of the hotel that the Grey Men were cluttering up. So, having greeted her client Gym Ninja headed up in the lift to the gym for the usual workout session.

Oh GREAT! There were 3 unknowns in the gym that day, making the  place untidy. The TV wasn't  even blasting out it's usual mix of music. Oh no. 'Someone' had re-tuned it to the BBC News Channel *yawn*.  In the corner of the gym was a swiss ball, and lying supine on it, like a dead 4-legged starfish, was a politician. He wasn't moving....he was just lying still, his arms and legs dangling onto the floor. Gym Ninja's client rolled her eyes, saving Gym Ninja the bother of doing so herself....

Trying to avoid eye contact with all three 'randoms' for fear of being sucked into their apathy, Gym Ninja began warming up her client. As she was doing so, a woman walked into the gym and climbed up onto one of the multi-plane cross trainers. More of a strider/stepper than your usual cross trainer really, and the woman was having great difficulty getting the correct motion going.

"Excuuuuuse me hunni" Boomed an American accent.

'You wouldn't mind showing me how to work this thang would ya?"  

Gym Ninja turned around. Hmmm. It would appear that there was no other 'hunni' about, so that then meant that the American woman was talking to Gym Ninja..... aka Gym Hunni...

Now Gym Ninja is NOT a gym instructor hired by the hotel so really shouldn't be getting involved with the general hotel guests. Gym Ninja is a PT who is paid exclusively by her client for one-on-one attention. However, seeing as GN likes Americans, she trotted over to help (with the permission of her client first of course). Cue about 3 minutes of the American woman half stepping, half cycling with her left leg only, whilst her right leg refused to play along. Gym Ninja, finding this highly amusing, decided it would be best to focus hard on the working leg rather than the one flailing around helplessly, to avoid an unprofessional guffaw whilst offering gentle words of encouragement.  After a rather awkward few minutes, both finally realised that The American Woman was flogging a dead (and lame) horse, and was also looking rather pathetic.

"Er, perhaps I should go on the Stepper?" Suggested the American Woman, appearing downcast.

Gym Ninja nodded whilst offering up her best non-patronising smile. 
"Er....Yep, that's probably not a bad idea. There's a lot to be said for Steppers".....

Part way through the PT session, as Gym Ninja was taking her client through some multi-plane lunges, in walked a suited & booted man of grey pallor and slight frame. He was wearing a pale blue shirt, grey suit trousers and leather shoes.  He screamed political blandness. Around his neck was a yellow Jim'll Fix It Badge. 

Damned Lib Dems! Obviously he'd taken a wrong turning?

The Grey Man meandered over to a bike in the far corner of the gym, unrolled his newspaper, sat down...and began pedalling.

In. His. Suit.

Head down, engrossed in his newspaper, his tie loosened, his brogues on, pedalling at a leisurely, almost lazy' pace, Grey Man began to work up a very fine sheen of sweat.  Gym Ninja and her client looked at each other, then back over to Grey Man. Both were secretly grateful that the old rule of 'forget your gym kit and do it in your underwear'  was no longer enforced.... Alongside Grey Man on the treadmill was another political type. This guy was larger. MUCH larger. Carved out of a substantial slab of lard. Calves the size of traffic bollards and feet lined with lead. Around the base of the treadmill, small cracks were beginning to show in the flooring....

*Thud, thud, thud, thud*

Not a natural runner, one may say. 

By now, Gym Ninja's client was looking cross. She was not used to such distractions and does not suffer fools any more than Gym Ninja does. Ahh, the warmth of a Capricorn eh? The political folk surrounding her were obviously aggravating her and it was starting to cause her a noticeable lack of balance.  EEEK! 


The door to the gym suddenly exploded open, and in stomped the final nail in the concentration coffin. 

Puny Boy!

Allow Gym Ninja to describe Puny Boy. He is a fairly common character in most gyms across the Globe, and no doubt you'll know one when you see one.  He's about 17 or 18, fairly tall yet of slight frame. Hunches his shoulders forwards partly due to his embarrassment at his height (puberty is still a fresh and slightly painful memory in his mind) and partly due to the fact he has never once stretched out his pecs rendering them as tight as a drum.  His hair is beige magnolia and falls across his face in a nod to Boy Band styling. His feet are shod in what can only be described as Trainers for clown feet. 

Puny Boy marched over to the cable machine, tinkered around with the rope attachment and then went headlong into something vaguely looking like triceps pushdowns.

Oh. Ok. No warm up then? 'Arm Day' is it? Pffft!

Puny Boy, having attempted to push down the rope attachment 5 or 6 times, was now struggling due to the fact that:

1. He'd not bothered to check the weight stack & the weight was WAY too heavy for him.
2.  His triceps were cold having not been warmed up before he began.
3.  Rope burn from the pulley was playing havoc with his hands. (Being  only 17 or 18, his hands were probably nursing a very recent Repetitive Strain Injury from too many nights in his room with his laptop & Red Tube.)

Gym Ninja and her client turned away. It was just too painful to watch him struggle.  Continuing their PT session to the background noise of BBC News 24 and the grunts of Puny Boy, it wasn't too long before they were yet again distracted. Puny Boy, having given up on his triceps, had now pulled up a bench, grabbed some 18kg dumbbells and was attempting to do a bench press of some description. 

Yeh, that's a good idea. Knacker your triceps first  and then attempt to waggle those babies around your head. Gym Ninja wondered if there was an iPhone App that would allow her to quickly place a bet on at Ladbrooks for this guy panning his own head in?   Puny Boy was in some serious trouble! His back was arched, his left arm was buckling under the weight of the dumbbell and his eyes had a look of fear as one arm started to drift outwards in a shoulder-dislocation type move whilst the other slowly inched the juddering dumbbell towards his skull. By now Gym Ninja had forgotten her annoyance as it had been replaced with a new and  morbid fascination for seeing what would happen first?  

Would it be

A): The 18kg Dumbbell in his left hand would find it's target of his left eye socket and smash it into a pulp of powdered bone, eye juice and blood?

B): The 18kg Dumbbell in his right hand would succeed in making contact with the floor, ripping his pec muscle and dislocating his shoulder in the process?

C):  His lower back would pop, simultaneously triggering a combo version of options A & B?

Some things, Ninjarettes, are best not described in blog format! Needless to say the final outcome wasn't anything that a mop, a bucket  & a bag of sawdust couldn't clean up.......

See you all back here tomorrow! Gym Ninja is on a roll........

Gym Ninja x