I’m not a classically religious man. I don’t attend church
and I’m in constant flux when it comes to my religion’s dogma. But a man
without a church is a man wandering blind, and so I’ve found my own place of
religious piety and self-examination.
My sacred place is open every hour of every day, it is five
minutes from my place and it welcomes everyone.
It’s the local gym.
It too has an altar, and a musk in the air that appeases the
senses when it’s time to exercise discipline. There’s a Eucharist of sorts
brimmed with a liquid that nourishes the muscles and the uniformity of a choir playing
metallic instruments. Some even have their own preachers reciting scripture
from well-known authorities. Every person that attends believes they can be
better by achieving one goal at a time. Achieving their goals is heavenly, but
falling shy carries with it a hellish after-taste that lingers well beyond training
hours.
I don’t believe the gym is a substitute for religious
enlightenment or spirituality—that would be dense. Rather after a hard day’s
work in a world riddled by constant injustices and a pervading sense Karma is
procrastinating, I find comfort in knowing the mysteries of the universe can be
eluded by a single repetitive and predictable motion.
For instance: if I extend and retract my arm carrying
weights, the muscle will improve. By focusing solely on how heavy and how many times
I do this, I can control my body, and that’s probably the most control I can exercise
over my life’s wealth, romance and general well-being.
I dare explore what happens when you injure yourself at the
gym—often a common occurrence—but I’m handicapped by my own trauma. I can say
there’s a great reward in overcoming an injury.
Having such a wonderful haven from everyday reality is
priceless. I process my frustrations—anger, doubts, sexual—in a way that is
healthy and almost always makes me feel better. Unfortunately there’s an
alarming group of people breaking some of the gym’s cardinal rules. These are as
sacred as commandments and should be followed just as stringently. They are:
I shall not Facebook at the gym
I shall not use performance enhancing drugs
I shall not douse my face in makeup
I shall not leer at fellow gym patrons
I shall not judge the weak
I shall offer fellow patrons a spot
I shall return my weights
I shall use a towel
I shall diet
I shall push myself to my absolute limits
We do so many things for so many other people and
institutions; the gym is magical because it’s the one place we do things for ourselves.
So remember to do it right, to concentrate on what you’re doing—why you’re
doing it—and not the pretty blond with the clown make up. Throw on the weight and
focus only on the one thing that matters: you can do it.
Then do it again.
By Tony Ibrahim
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