Commentary: Fitness expo offers comic relief

  • Published
  • By Staff Sgt. Christopher L. Ingersoll
  • 100th Air Refueling Wing Public Affairs
RAF MILDENHALL, England --  Recently I found myself in Birmingham surrounded by so much ego that I could barely fit my 165-pound frame through the door.

Some friends and I made the two-hour trek to to attend a fitness expo called "BODY POWER!", and although it wasn't what I expected, it was a truly rewarding experience for the sheer comic value.

We started in a huge line outside the facility elbow to elbow - well for me is was more like elbow to waist. The majority of the men around me seemed to have trouble putting their arms flat against their sides and their scowling faces sat on top of mounds of muscle that had consumed their necks.

When the doors opened, it was a mad dash for the cash -- or in this case, free samples of fitness products. Manufacturers of workout equipment, supplements and various other strong-man products made a twisting labyrinth for radical extremist workout enthusiasts to traverse.

We made our rounds through the booths slamming shots of concoctions with tons of muscle jargon and power words.

"Try this," someone would say.

"What is it?" I would ask.

"It's an extreme-whey-power-nutrient-building-lightning-bolt-energy-explosion-muscle-turbo-thrust-blasting-amino-boosting-god-like-awesomeness-shake" they would reply. "It's quite tasty too, chocolate-mint?"

So after I had slammed a few shots of different products, my adrenal glands kicked into a caffeine-driven mania. I started to sweat and had trouble completing sentences without shouting and shaking. So we moved to find some food to soak up some of the chemical poisoning that we all were beginning to feel the effects of.

As it was a fitness show, you would think that there would be some healthy food there.

No such luck.

Each food vender offered their own recipe of grease bombs to feed the thousands of pounds of muscle present at the event. So I had no choice but to down a 9-inch pizza on my own, and I didn't feel a hint of guilt over the matter.

We then moved to some of the event displays. We started off with the classic sledge hammer and bell contest where one hits the pad with a giant mallet and it tells you how much force you hit it with.

I watched 250-pound monsters wield the hammer like Conan the Barbarian and fail to hit the mark at which you could earn a T-shirt. Knowing that I would probably get laughed at, I decided to take a swing at it.

After the big guy running the display ignored me for awhile, I finally took my swing like anyone who has ever chopped wood knows how to do. To my surprise I was well over the mark, and I politely turned to the man and asked for my T-shirt.

Next up was the bench press contest. I was stunned to find out that a lot of people basically cheat in these events. The contestants start off by forcing themselves into a thick elastic shirt which pulls their arms forward so hard that they can't pull them back to their sides giving them an advantage when it's time to lift.

The shirts are so tight that it will often times tear the skin during the event. Second they push their large bellies in the air so they don't have to bring the weight down very far. Don't get me wrong, I was still impressed by the amount of weight they could bench but not nearly as impressed as I was with their mullets.

As we all began to crash from the caffeine high, we decided it was time to go home. As I sat in the back of an uncomfortable BMW I reflected on what I had learned that day.

First, there really is no substitute for a well-balanced diet and exercise regime. Second, one should be careful of what they are eating and drinking -- at least two of the concoctions I saw there were illegal for military members. Last, don't say what you are thinking out loud if there are roid-raging monsters around.