The one thing I've grown to love about commercial gyms is their consistency. What I mean is, just as how a Big Mac at McDonald's is the same offensive product no matter what part of the country you're in, it's nice to know that Monday at 5:30 PM is "National Bench Press time" at every 24-Hour Fitness abomination from Azusa, California to Anchorage, Alaska.
Why do I like this consistency? Because it allows me to structure other important workouts, like leg training, around days that the douchebag crowd is occupying the various glam exercise stations.
And even when I'm still forced to wait a bit, the line-up for my beloved squat rack is always far shorter than the leg press queue (arm curls in the squat rack crew notwithstanding).
Silly weekend warriors. Everybody knows that squats are superior to leg presses right? They're harder to do, require more coordination, and just rate higher on the exercise badass scale than something that resembles a plate-loaded La-Z-Boy recliner.
Don't these douchebags read Testosterone?
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