A couple years ago my friends Billy, Jeremy and Cason were going to the YMCA every other day or so and working out. They called themselves "The Power Team". I wanted to start going, but they said membership was closed and that I would have to submit an essay.
So I did.
And I got accepted. And they never met again. Looking down at the ol' belly I thought it was time to share the essay with you. Without further adieu...Why I Should Be a Part of the Power Team To begin with, I’d like to share a quote from the great American songwriter Bruce Springsteen. “Wendy, with tramps like us, Baby, we were born to run.� Now, I am no tramp, I have also never called anyone named Wendy ‘Baby’, and, truthfully, I can barely walk, let alone run. However, sometimes I do feel the need for a little recreation, a fine-tuning of this proverbial ‘temple of the Lord’, and because of this desire, I have written the following essay…
I am getting fat. I used to be skinny. I used to eat whatever I wanted and not gain a single pound, as my mother would say. But O, how the tigers of time have come for their metabolism! Six trips up the stairs, my daily workout currently, seems barely enough to scatter the loin-loitering of a single grain of rice. I need help! I need guidance! I need to feel pretty! I need… the Power Team.
And here is my confession: “Sometimes I feel I’m not sexy.� I am a married man, dear friends. Some of you stood before God and these witnesses and vowed to support this holy and sacramental union. Please, do your duty, and allow me to find the strapping, virile, desirable man buried beneath the rolls and folds, like the receipt beneath so many fast-food wrappers lining the backseat of love’s station wagon.
However, I do feel that I have a few things I can offer this enlightened band of bone-crushing brethren. While I don’t have many things, in the ways of the world, I do have a car, so if anybody would need a ride, like, cause their car broke, I would pick them up. Also, I just bought some new workout shorts, because my wife said she was embarrassed because of how tight and small my old ones were. So you see, not only could I get you to the Y, but my new shorts might look so awesome it could help Cason meet girls with MP3 players. Think of all that may never happen without my humble presence.
Another thing I feel I have to offer is that I am very encouraging. One time, when somebody was thinking about doing something that was a challenge, a “weight that need be lifted�, if you will, I stood there and said, “Go for it, man.� This is the kind of attitude I think the Power Team could find helpful. Another brick in the wall of positive self-image. One more balloon in the hand of the “you-can-do-it� clown.
I believe that male bonding is an essential part of life. I believe that deep and truthful camaraderie emerges Darwinian from pools of sweat, rivers of blood, and airs of flatulence. I believe that each male is unique as a birthmark, as special as Mr. Rogers. I believe that the cog I bring can make greater the machine of community.
It is my hope that the Power Team, arma protelum, as the scholars say, can shine like a lighthouse of strength to a world of weakness, that she can stand like our Lady of Liberty on an Ellis Island of dignity, welcoming the poor, the weak, the huddled masses into the land of lifting, jogging and carnage.
Sure, I may sit in an office lined with gold records and Grammy’s. I may have an army of servants to fulfill my every desire. I may light fires with hundred-dollar bills on an August afternoon. But even if I didn’t, I would still feel a void. The vacuum hated by nature that can only be filled by daily workouts at the YMCA with a few good friends. The silence of the heavens may haunt our souls, but together we can send back our answer: “I WILL SPOT YOU, my friend, AND THEN I SHALL LIFT!!!!�
Saturday, February 10, 2007 at 10:03PM 
