Jamie At the Local Y

 I was at the Y this morning when a group of dudes came in to do some weightlifting. I was apparently in their way. Not trying to be the poop-stirring stick, I decided to finish up the set I was in the middle of and hop on the treadmill so they could get their lifting on. I am nice at 6 am.

 Pure crap. These guys were coming up on their toes, not fully extending, totally unstable and just flat out sloppy. It was like watching baboons lift weights. It took a lot of restraint for me not to jump off that treadmill and hit all of them over the head. But then I realized that these guys obviously don't have the solid training that we get at our gym. Their form stunk.  An injury is just around the corner.

 I decided not to be bullied out of my workout by a bunch of choads who didn't know how to lift. I hopped off the treadmill, grabbed a couple of weights and went back to doing my renegade rows, one-arm snatches, and split-jerks.  Yeah, I got some sideways looks and heard some mumbling, but you know what, it is MY workout and I know what I am doing.

 I guess my point is that we don't always feel confident in our form or weight we use, but having the opportunity to see what bad form really looks like, it made me very proud to be a part of our group. Yeah, some days we are off, but all–in-all, you guys do a fantastic job and are very disciplined. I am not sure if all of you realize how good you really are. I'd put any one of you up against all of the guys I saw at the Y this morning. That isn't to say that we don't all have room for improvement or that we have mastered anything, but man, we are a kick-ass group.

 Love ya,

 Jamie