I couldn’t say for sure, but I have a hunch that my trainer, Mike, is involved with some shady people. Last week was the second time in the four months I’ve been seeing him that he showed up with …
Stay informed about your community and support local independent journalism.
Subscribe to The River Reporter today. click here
This item is available in full to subscribers.
Please log in to continue |
I couldn’t say for sure, but I have a hunch that my trainer, Mike, is involved with some shady people. Last week was the second time in the four months I’ve been seeing him that he showed up with a black eye. The first time I asked him what happened, he uncomfortably told me that he didn’t want to talk about it.
“I am an idiot,” was the only explanation he offered.
The second time, I didn’t ask.
Mike is in his late 40s, tall and thin. He has a silver-tinged beard and long hair that he keeps tucked behind his ears. He wears glasses and dresses like all of the other trainers in athletic pants and sneakers.
I like him because he is older than the other trainers and works hard to compensate. I like him because he has bad knees and patience for me. I like him because he takes pride in his work. I can also tell that he needs the money.
I joined the gym after looking in the mirror and realizing that I had recently gained a considerable amount of weight. Something had to be done, I thought, and quickly.
In my brain, I would blame the whole thing on quitting smoking. In actuality, who knows. It also could very well have been my terrible diet and lack of exercise. It’s a fairly common joke that editors get fat eating all day while sitting comfortably behind a desk. It’s not far from the truth.
The first time I went to the gym I stood awkwardly in my new sneakers and shiny shorts. It felt like everyone was staring at me. I didn’t know where to begin. I tooled around with some weights and ran on the treadmill for a mile and a half. Not very good.
The gym membership came with one free training session, so I set it up and arrived on time feeling good. It was a Saturday and for a (not so) nutritious breakfast I had had a bagel and large coffee. I was done after the warm up. By the end of the hour-long session I thought I was going to die. I literally couldn’t lift my arms. The next day, I felt great.
I signed up for eight more sessions. It was slightly more affordable than I thought it would be, and if I wanted to get serious about getting in shape, I needed someone to teach me how to work out. That someone was going to be Mike. I liked his goofiness immediately; he made bad jokes and danced in place while we trained.
It was a few weeks before he asked me what I did for a living. Gradually, we got to know each other. I found out that he recently moved back to NYC from LA. He likes movies, watches a ton and we bonded over the must-see-titles available on Netflix Instant.
I found out that he teaches Salsa dancing when I called his cell phone and got his voicemail for the first time. He sells instructional dance videos and books. He likes to stay out late; many training sessions in the morning he tells me that he hasn’t slept. I don’t mind, though.
Then he came in with the black eye. I wondered about it all session. It was the thing that I tried to distract myself with while I was alternating between box jumps and push-ups. Desperately trying to fill up my brain with anything but the physical pain of working out.
The fact that he didn’t want to talk about it was strange, I thought. He seemed embarrassed, more so than I would imagine if he walked into a pole or got into a bar fight.
A week or so later, he told me he was getting into real estate, and later that day he had to meet someone in a slightly shady part of town. The next week, he had another black eye. As he talked to me about Netflix, I looked into his eye and wondered.
My mind spun thoughts of the many things he could be into. Did he have a gambling debt? Owe money to a loan shark? Do they even have loan sharks anymore? And then I wondered if I was crazy. Is this what exercise does to you?
Maybe I’ve been reading too many true crime stories. Or maybe I should ask him if he needs help. I’ll watch his back for some free training sessions.
Comments
No comments on this item Please log in to comment by clicking here