The gym March 30, 2008

I know I am home when I am (1) sprawled out in my bed, (2) being uninteresting, or (3) overhearing sports and gym conversations in the dining area at 11 am on a Sunday morning. These talks are between my dad and his youngest brother. The latter has recently become involved in fitness activities and has made it a weekly habit to be here to ask about the best gym practices. I guess, to his belief, his questions can only be answered by my dad.

My dad opened a gym down in the garage in his early 20’s (read: some 20 years ago). He charged 20 bucks for members per session and trained them himself. He did all this while completing his Medical Technology undergrad study. Mom’s involvement was she trained the female members. Dad was never a fan of buying new gym equipment, or any equipment he could otherwise make. (To prove this point, he mentioned in retrospect that he assembled his own freestyle BMX bike with just a magazine as a reference. I know anyone who’s patient enough could do this. But having the genes of this person, I found this both amazing and depressing as I couldn’t as much as follow an origami tutorial from a book that explained it step by fucking step.) He produced his equipment by taking the necessary measurements and having a welder-friend do his metal magic. Save for the stationary bike, plates and dumbbells, everything was hand made.

Dad and his gym buddies found friendship in one other. Dad’s been boasting a bit about how he came to know Auraeus Solito and Xander Angeles in the same gym. Auraeus went into films and Xander into more mountaineering and photography. I do hope both would be involved in my dream short film and my dream underwater glamor shoot. Other personalities in his gym group included female weightlifters, a few more mountaineers, a bunch of metal heads who still hang out at Mayric’s Bar (I bumped into one of them there in a gig I went to last month. I knew better than drink more than 1 beer that night), and some nomads. They really liked one another, despite my dad’s being obtuse toward extreme personalities, and despite being one himself.

When I see dad with his friends now, I think to myself why he stands out. I guess he kind of outgrew what he once found in common with these people, and now all that is left is the friendship. **

The gym would close at 10. He’d push the gym equipment to the wall to park his black Mitsubishi Galant. Sometimes during post-gym nights, when dad and his gym friends felt like it, they’d drink until the morning. Dammit, he was about my age then, what more could he want than friends and beer before he goes home to his wife and little girl?

Deciding to pursue a more serious career, dad had to close the gym down. He wanted to be able to provide his future children a camera, a nice apartment, a nice guitar, above all good education.

My dad was also a break dancer during his time, not to mention a wall climber and a mountaineer. And I don’t call him dad, I call him papa.

I feel more cool now that I have just said I have a break dancer for a dad hah. The point of this entry is actually so that I can say my dad owns your dad. This entry is even tagged as such.

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** I’ve actually come to realize why my dad isn’t friendly to my boyfriend. I think because my dad, during his time, was just as non-conformist and unconventional as my boyfriend is. As I was saying, my dad’s taken off his extreme self. He is now wearing a square archetype for a change. Then he meets this person and finds that this person is a younger clone. Then, have this younger clone date his daughter, and it becomes an unlikely sight.