Pumping Iron in the DR

Pumping Iron in the DR
I decided to finally see what a Dominican gym was like in a barrio. I am not sure I will return but it was an experience in itself. If you ever wondered where that rusting piece of gym equipment goes when a gym finally decides to throw it out goes, I think I found it at this gym. You really have to use your imagination to get things done there. To get there I left my barrio and ran along a freeway or an autopista as they call it. Not the best air in the world but you have to be able to make do with what you got. My Dad was always worried that I would go for a jog with my Ipod on blast and run the chance of an accident…no worries there Dad. This is an important rule to keep in mind when running next to a Dominican freeway for two reasons; the first being that you always need to be alert and hear what is coming, and you don’t want anyone to envy you in any way. So I just elected to enjoy the loud rumbles of the motorcycles and the Cobradors yelling at me from their guaguas. As I said before a guagua is a bus here, but what I haven’t shared is that a cobrador is a guy who hangs out the doors of buses trying to convince you that their bus is going the same place you are. It is always confusing when three of them, whom are going different places come up to you and all tell you that their bus will take you wherever you need to go. There really is no such thing as a bus stop here other than any given place on the side of the road. If I am sounding critical you have it all wrong, I love this system. Back to the gym story, I crossed the freeway on a pedestrian bridge and found myself in a much busier barrio than I was accustomed to. Finally I get to the gym which is a YMCA…kind of… There was what used to be a brick wall but now just has portions of what was at some point a brick wall. Something interesting I don’t understand is that all the signs here look as though they were painted in less than a minute. I guess if you can read it, and you know what they are selling, that is all that matters to them. Before I entered that gym on the second story I had to pass the physical test of walking up a steep spiral flight of stairs with no rails what so ever. I got in around five and there were about 12 people inside. Within 20 minutes the place was infested with guys who looked like they came there often. It just goes to show you that 5-7 pm at any gym is always going to be crowded. I was getting the vibe that things could take an ugly turn so I finished up some exercises and hit the dusty trail…no really the road is pretty dusty here. The day before I did a lot of push-ups, jumped rope, and did lunges in the streets where I live and I felt as though my work out went a lot better and safer there in my own little barrio, the place I call home. My return to the gym is still up in the air but I may have to accept that pumping iron is no longer part of my life…for now. Next up will be my blog on my Peace Corps Volunteer visit. To clarify, I am a trainee and after I pass all my tests and trainings I will get sworn in. Thanks for reading and God bless.