There was one of those guys at the gym this morning.
One of those guys for whom every rep of every set must be accompanied by a long, high-volume groan.
The sort that typically goes along with…other types of activities.
Now, lots of people, including me, find that some kind of forceful exhaling when you’re lifting weights is helpful. And usually, the music — the radio’s always going in the gym — is loud enough to mask it.
But let me reiterate: this guy was REALLY. REALLY. LOUD.
He groaned his way through “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus,” “Buttons,” and “Baby Got Back.” (The station calls itself something like “your feel-good connection.” Um. Yeah.)
Finally one of the other folks in the gym kind of looked over his way, chuckled, and said, “Damn, boy!”
“What?” the guy demanded. “You mean I’m supposed to be SILENT through my set?”
The other gentleman shook his head cheerfully and said, “Nah, nah, nah, bro. You make your noises.”
“Yeah, well,” the guy said, “it helps, you know — sometimes it SCARES ’em into movin’ — UUUUNNNHHHH!!”
I believe the “’em” referred to was the guy’s muscles.
For a little while, things got quieter. There were some commercials on the radio, people talked quietly about holiday plans.
Then the music returned: “Life is a mys-ter-y, everyone must stand a-lone, I hear you call my name, and it feeeeels like ho-ome.”
I realized that there was another voice singing along with Ms. Ciccone.
I looked around to see who it was.
Sure enough, it was Groaning Guy, who, it turns out, is possessed of a totally awesome falsetto.
(N.B.: Not Groaning Guy.)