Dialogue: Flexing the abs and pecs with a runty sparky

By JOE BENNETT

The noisy electrician has been going to the gym for six months now. His Achilles tendon went ping last year and he says he goes to the gym to strengthen it. But really he goes there because he's a runty weed. He's had more sand kicked in his face than the last Bedouin in the camel train.

He has often urged me to join him at the gym. I have resisted, partly because all my Achilles tendons are in the pink, but mainly because I am not a runty weed. My mother used to boast that I was big-boned. And once a shop assistant told me I was well-built. I was trying on a pair of jeans at the time and they had got stuck at my thighs.

But the electrician is an insistent man and yesterday I gave in. The gym carpark was loud with music. Through a second-floor window I could see the top halves of people doing aerobics. Incredibly, some of them seemed to be men. I was impressed by the electrician's speed and strength as he stopped me getting back into my car.

At reception I had to sign a form that said it wouldn't be the gym's fault if I died. I also had to give a list of my goals. When I said I didn't have any goals, the receptionist said I had to, so I wrote "happiness". She looked at me oddly.

At the bottom of the form was a diagram of the human body for me to circle the places where I had suffered injuries. I found that if I went back far enough, I could circle everything except my crotch. Then I remembered a childhood zip and circled the lot.

The gym was crammed with the sort of home-exercise machines you see advertised on television by women with leotards and teeth. But these machines were different from the ones in people's houses in that they were being used.

Some of the machines had little holders on them. I was the only person there not carrying a baby's bottle full of water.

By way of a warm-up, the electrician and I rode bicycles to nowhere. A screen on the handlebars told me the calories I had expended and the kilometres I hadn't travelled. It didn't tell me the degree to which the saddle was chafing my thighs. Nor did it need to. The woman on the next bike was reading a magazine. I leaned across to read about Prince Harry and discovered some good drinking tips.

After 10 minutes I was very warmed up. When the electrician asked me how I was feeling I didn't bother to reply. A visual scan revealed that the thigh-chafing quotient was 93 per cent.

The people in the gym fell into two categories. There were those with good bodies and those with less good bodies. Those with good bodies wore dinky little shorts and singlets. Those with less good bodies wore baggy shorts and T-shirts. Some of the people with good bodies walked around a lot but didn't seem to take much exercise. Those with less good bodies worked hard all the time.

There were several large mirrors, the athletic purpose of which wasn't immediately apparent. One man with thighs like half-g's and biceps like medicine balls held dumbbells in front of a mirror. Every 10 seconds or so he knelt before his reflection.

Few people spoke. Even fewer smiled. Some stole glances at what others were doing, but most wore looks of anguish or of self-absorption. We gym-bunnies look as if we are engaged in solitary sex.

Personal trainers were on patrol, distinguishable by their good bodies, rather less good uniforms and enormous sports shoes full of technology.

My arms have always been strong. On the bench press machine the runty electrician did 12 repetitions and then let me have a go. I chose to stop at 10.

Then he did 12 more and I did six. I would have done seven but he stopped me, out of concern for a blood vessel in my face.

While he carried on, I went to reception to borrow a baby's water bottle. The girl asked how I was feeling. "Rubbery," I said. "That's nice," she said.

We did more arm weights and leg weights and then we worked on our abs. We lay down and sat up. We crunched and we writhed like upturned tortoises. We groaned and we gasped - although the electrician had learned to do so silently.

After an hour I said I thought I shouldn't overdo it on my first day. The electrician said he normally did two hours, but he showed me where the sauna was. I proved to be very good indeed at the sauna.

On the way out, the cheerful girl asked me if I would like to join. I said I would think about it.

I have thought about it. I lead a sedentary life and I think I should. I shall write them a cheque just as soon as I can use my arms.