by Steve Calvert

Barry forced the heavy barbell up from his chest and let it drop backwards onto its stand. Metal clanked against metal noisily and then was still. Sitting up and picking up his towel from the floor he wiped the sweat from his face and forehead. The blood that had pumped into his pecs gave his chest a swollen and bloated feel. He liked it (no pain, no gain).

It was quiet in the gym tonight. This was only the second time that Barry had been and he wondered if it was always this quiet on weeknights. The gym that he used to go to, before coming to the area, was always busy. On any and every night. But that had meant that Barry had sometimes had to wait while someone else finished using the weights or equipment that he wanted. There would be no waiting here. Not tonight anyway.

mf…
Spot 2

Taking a mouthful of water from his bottle, he looked around the room and saw only four other people: the guy that worked behind the counter, two young girls and, sitting a little away from Barry, a fattish looking lad.

The two girls seemed to be exercising their jaws more than anything else, although he had to admit they did look in pretty good shape, and the fat lad was just sitting. He looked lost in thought. His workout, so far, was of the mental kind.

Barry lay back down on his bench and reached his hands up to the metal bar above him. Then, after a moment’s contemplation, he powered the bar away from the stands.

One… two… three… four… five… s… ix… s… even… ei… ei… eight.

He let the bar drop back down onto its stand and sat up again, shaking his arms to loosen up his shoulder muscles and clenching and unclenching his fingers. No pain, no gain… No pain, no gain, no pain no gain. He wiped his face on his towel once more. It felt damp against his skin.

mf…
Spot 3

Barry lightened the bar off slightly in readiness for his next set. Looking towards the door, he saw the two girls leaving, giggling as they went. Just the fat lad left now. He was sitting to Barry’s left and looking almost longingly at a nearby rack of dumbbells. Every now and then he stopped looking at the weights and glanced at his reflection in the mirror. Then it was back to staring at the dumbbells.

‘GOTTA PUMP,’ the slogan read across the lad’s t-shirt in big blue letters. Barry smiled. He had never seen that one before and wondered where he’d got the shirt.

Since moving to the area Barry had missed a few weeks of training and realized that he might not be in quite as good a shape as he thought. Usually he trained alone, but perhaps tonight it might be sensible to have someone spot him. Just in case he needed a hand with the last few reps, or to get the barbell back onto its stand.

“Hey mate,” he called across to Gotta Pump.

Gotta looked up.

“Don’t suppose you could spot me, could you?” Barry continued.

mf…
Spot 4

Appearing surprised, the lad looked behind him, and then looking back at Barry, pointed a questioning finger at himself.

“Yes, you... Come on. It wont take five minutes, and then I’ll return the favor if you want.” That’s if you’re actually planning to do any training tonight, that is.

Gotta shook his head.

“Oh, come on!”

Obediently, Gotta walked over to Barry’s bench.

“All you have to do is lend a hand if you see I’m struggling to get it back onto the stands. That’s all. Won’t take long.”

“But I won't be able to lif--”

“You won’t need to be able to lift it on your own mate. Just give me a hand if I need it. Take a bit of the pressure off… Alright?”

Gotta Pump opened his mouth to reply, but by then Barry had already raised the bar above his chest.

One … Two … Three … Four …

The bar was beginning to feel heavier already.

Fi… ive… si… six …

Maybe he should let that be enough for now (no pain, no gain).

mf…
Spot 5

s… ev… eve…

Suddenly he felt as if he were pushing against a solid object (no pain, no gain) and instead of the bar moving upwards it wasn’t moving at all. Barry’s eyes locked onto Gotta Pump. He saw panic on his face.

“Get it. Get the bar...”

Gotta shook his head.

“What’s the matter with you? Get the bloody bar.”

Gotta stood a moment longer and watched Barry struggle. Then, looking sad, he placed his hands over the top of the bar and surrounded it with his fingers.

To Barry the bar felt no different. “Lift it… Lift it, for pity’s sake--”

Gotta pump pulled upwards with his whole body, straightening up his legs as he did so.

The bar passed through his fingers as if they were not there.

Barry’s eyelids flung open in shock.

And the bar fell.

mf…
Spot 6

Rising up from the bench, and staring down at the messy amalgamation of iron and flesh below him, Barry was speechless. Pulling his eyes away from his former pride and joy, he fixed them upon his companion.

“You know,” Gottta Pump said. “That’s exactly how I went too.”

<ENDS>