By Larry Flesler, Special Get Fit Series

My upper body is starting to recover from my recent workouts.  My left cornea still has some damage from Van’s talon-like finger nails and I have some nasty looking scabs but I’m otherwise healthy so it’s time for some cardio.

I’ll be honest, I don’t like cardio.  I find it boring.  I can’t just walk on a treadmill or ride a stationary bike for 30 or 40 minutes without going completely insane.  My good pal Van suggested that we join some kind of a themed-workout group to keep our interest.  He grabbed the yellow pages and looked for a Jane Fonda or Jack Lalanne type workout group.  To our surprise we could not find one but he did find an interesting place called “Jazzercize.”  He gave them a call and they encouraged us to stop in and check the place out.

Van splashed on some Hi Karate and threw on a pair of shorts and a muscle shirt.  “Why are you getting dressed in workout gear, I thought we were just going to check it out?” I asked.  “If I’m going to get any action tonight I’ve gotta show off the goods,” said Van.  He then put on some really thick socks that bunched up around the top of his Chuck Taylor high-tops.  He also sported a headband and two wrist bands.

We decided to stop at the Scotch and Sirloin on the way to grab a quick salad.  We grabbed a table and a waitress came right over to take our order.  I ordered the house salad and a tap water as I was trying to be mindful of my diet.  Van ordered the Sirloin Tips covered in mushrooms, onions and gravy with a “Clams Casino” appetizer and a Southern Comfort Manhattan.  Van is a slow chewer and insisted on ordering three more drinks so we were there for quite a while.

Van kept saying that I would not lose any weight at the glorified dance class called “Jazzercise” and got up from the table to show me what type of moves I should expect to be doing while paying a steep membership fee.  It was quite a scene for the lunch crowd as Van kept doing moves like the Cha-Cha, a strange Salsa-like number that had him bent over backwards in my lap and even included an attempt at break dancing. We were there for about an hour.  By now Van had had about six Manhattan’s and was starting to slur his words.

Van then visited the other diners asking them if they wanted to arm wrestle. To my surprise someone took him up on his offer.

An elderly obese woman agreed, rolled up her sleeve and off they went.  She won easily and nearly snapped his arm in two.  Van screamed that she cheated, then tried to smash a ketchup bottle over her head but swung wildly, missed and fell to the floor.  The bottle must have smashed under him as he had ketchup all over him.  I was helping him up when he noticed the ketchup stains.  Van started weeping and whispered to me, “I’m dying.  Tell your Wife I love her.”

Needless to say I was a little embarrassed and wanted to get the hell out of there.  I grabbed a handful of twenty dollar bills from my money clip, tossed them to the bartender and made a smooth exit.

Next week: Legs.

By Larry Flesler Special Get Fit Series

In my quest to get back in shape I’ve decided to go after it with a vengeance. I spent the last month watching infomercials and have purchased many of the helpful exercise gadgets that ‘guarantee’ weight loss success.

It started about a month ago when Van was over to watch a Barney Miller marathon on my new 23-inch Magnavox. We were disappointed that the episodes did not include ‘Fish’ and thus Van started changing the channel. He stopped on an infomercial for an ab machine that promised results that looked too good to be true.

It was then that I decided I would take control of my body and my life.

I threw down my bowl of barbecue spare ribs, finished off my glass of Irish Whiskey and grabbed the phone.

Van looked at me perplexed, asking if I was done with the ribs and who was I calling.  I told him I was about to get that beach body I always wanted and asked if he was going to hop on the “Weight Loss Train” with me. He gave me a barbecue sauce covered thumbs up, mumbled something about a ‘Bar Car’ and passed out on my Barcolounger.

I was going to order the ab machine but soon found another contraption that looked like a better whole body workout.  It’s called a Bow Flex.  I ordered the machine and paid the additional $365.00 for overnight shipping because I was so anxious to get started.

It was delivered promptly the next day and Van even convinced the delivery man to install it for us.  I placed it in my study that faces the front yard.  Van removed the drapes, saying I would be more motivated if my neighbors could watch me workout.  Van already had on his workout gear: mini yellow spandex shorts, a skin tight pink muscle shirt, white knee-high tube socks, a white sweatband and his Chuck Taylor Converse sneakers from high school.

I excused myself to get my workout gear on. I found my black wrestling singlet from high school but realized I don’t own a pair of sneakers so I threw on my favorite  Wing Tips with black dress socks and a sock garter belt.

My Home Gym

When I returned, Van was going at it with wild enthusiasm.  He was lying on the bench face down doing some sort of modified behind-the-back bench press. He looked like he was having trouble when he yelled out “Spot me!”  I ran up to the machine, straddled the bench and tried to give him some assistance with his workout. I grabbed two of the bands and tried to pull them apart while he continued. I leaned in to get better leverage when Van suddenly let go, the bands snapping back into the starting position locking me in by the throat.  I started to panic and was running in place to keep some of the force of the bands from cutting off all of my oxygen.  Van was unable to move as I was directly on top of him.

This went on for about 45 minutes when, luckily, the machine started to come apart. I was able to free myself, and then helped Van get up.  He was bruised all over his back from my knees and Wing Tips clipping him as I violently ran in place while affixed to the machine.

We ran outside for some fresh air just as my Wife and her bridge club arrived for their weekly card game.  I had scars on both sides of my throat and Van looked as if he had been clubbed like a baby seal.

My Wife got out of the car, looked at both of us and let out a shriek, yelled to the other ladies to ignore the freak show, then got back in the car and burned rubber as she left.

Next week: Upper Body.

By Larry Flesler

I was glad to see my friends Mike Schlopp and Wadi Sawabini join Van, Marie Rice and myself at the cottage.

We had a great couple days together. Mike brought his wife and Wadi brought his partner Garth. I thought it was his partner in business but they were holding hands, french kissing and groping each other during our game of Bridge so it must be something more than that.

Mike’s wife Carolyn is a tennis player and very competitive. One morning Van and I were on our daily newspaper run on my bicycle built for 2 when suddenly Carolyn darted up from behind us like a bat out of hell. She was on roller blades and whizzed up to us screaming, “Outta my way you old bastards, last one to the store is a rotten egg.”

We could not let her beat us.  Van peddled like he was trying to get to the bar for last call, I had to keep up as the bike shares the same gear.  But as hard as we tried, we could not shake Carolyn, she was right next to us. Van then grabbed my hair pulled my head back and yelled “Pedal faster, fatty!”

I got my second wind and we started to breakaway from her.

We let our guard down for a second and coasted when suddenly she was right on us again.  Van watched as she grabbed a metal shank from her sports bra and shoved it into the spokes of our back wheel.  “Take that, you f-ers” she said as we flew head over heels from the bike to the concrete below. Van’s face hit the handle bars (sending his dentures flying) and the left side of my face was scratched, bleeding and swollen from the fall. I also had a sharp pain on my left buttock, which turned out it was Van’s teeth.

He said I could leave them where they were and he would try to get them back in without using his hands.

We finally gathered ourselves, wrestled with the mangled bike and walked back to the cottage. Wadi was outside walking with Garth when he saw us approaching.  Garth grabbed the garden hose and sprayed us down while Wadi ran into the cottage and came out with some band aids, scissors, gauze pads and baby oil. He cut off our clothes even though they weren’t that damaged and began tending to us. He applied the gauze and then gave us a baby oil massage. Van said his inseam was really sore and Wadi went to town. Not sure why but Garth ran to his car, retrieved his video camera and started taping. We must have looked like quite the site, both lying on beach chairs getting oiled up by Wadi Sawabini.

When I told Van he could get the paper by himself tomorrow, he just moaned and asked if I had a cigarette.

Special Ruse Get Fit Series

By Larry Flesler

I need to find a gym in my quest to slim down. I asked my old pal (and ever-slender) Van to give me a hand.

We started at the Scotch and Sirloin and leafed through the Yellow Pages while dining on steak with mushrooms and onions. An ad for a 24 hour gym around the corner caught our eye so I called and asked if I could stop in and visit with a personal trainer. The man on the phone identified himself as Carl and said he would be glad to see me in one hour.  We had some time to kill so we finished our meals and ordered a pitcher of dirty martinis, then it was off to the gym.

Van and I walked to the gym on wild legs as the martinis started to take hold.

A tall, strapping lad with a shock of red hair greeted us at the door.  “Hi my name is Carl, welcome to Carl’s 24 hour Fitness Emporium.”  I said hello and shook his hand.  Van said hello and gave him a big hug and peck on the cheek. “What are your goals?” asked Carl. I told him: “I want to look like my friend Van: bony girl arms, legs like Serena  Williams and the backside of Cher.”

Carl replied, “I’ll see if I can help.”

The first thing he had me do was an assessment of my flexibility, a measurement of my fat content and a check of my strength.  I laid on the mat and went through a series of stretches. Unfortunately for Carl and the other members of the gym, the steak mushrooms and dirty martinis were done fermenting in my stomach and I let go with a 21 gun salute. Carl winced, let out a scream, held his nose and ran to the exit. He had to hold the door open as the other members were right behind him.  Van and I were alone for about 15 minutes as the mushroom cloud dissipated. We played slap and tickle until Carl finally returned.

“Sorry about that” I said. “That’s OK,” said Carl, his eyes still watering.  “I just wasn’t expecting it to burn so much.”  He decided to skip the rest of the assessment and delve right into my diet.

“What’s your daily nutritional intake, starting with breakfast?” asked Carl.  I replied, “Well, for breakfast I start with a pound of bacon cooked in 4 sticks of butter and a cheese omelette smothered in hot fudge sauce topped with Skittles. For lunch I keep it light: a chicken salad with bacon wrapped sticks of butter and cheesecake for dessert. Dinner is normally done at the Scotch and Sirloin or The Grapevine. We go with either Steak and mushrooms or the King cut (24 ounce) Prime Rib. I’m not a big snacker and rarely get through more than 4 bags of Funions in an evening.”

“Wow” said Carl, “This could be a challenge.  Let’s run through some of the weight machines.”

He sat me down on some sort of leg press machine. I sat there and banged out 40 then 50 pounds when I felt that I was crowning.  I jumped up as fast as I could and nailed my head on a steel cross bar from the machine next to mine. I tumbled down onto Van and floundered around trying to gain my composure. I finally got to my feet but noticed my shorts had torn almost all the way off. By now I was bleeding profusely from a 4 inch gash in my forehead and my coin purse was in full view. I was a little embarrassed but Van kept it together, saying I looked fine and even snapped a few pictures with his camera phone.

“The locker room is over there,” Carl said as he pointed just over my shoulder.  I made my way to the john and did my business. I must have fallen asleep on the commode as I awoke to Van standing beside me in the stall trying to get me up. He was pulling my arm in a feeble attempt to budge me. He  was gentle about it though, kept stroking the top of my head and whispering, “Come on big fella you can do it.”

I must have been sitting there awhile as my left foot fell asleep. I managed to stand with Van’s help and we both made our way out of the locker room and the gym.

Next post: Cardio