The Night Before Christmas…all Through the Gym…

‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the gym…

 

‘Twas the night before Christmas

and all through the gym

not a dumbbell was stirring

not even those pretty little pink ones…that are much too light for even the girls there…

 

When all of a sudden, there arose such a clatter

I rushed to the front door, to see what was the matter…

It was the friggin powerlifting team, trying to get in

and they were getting madder and madder…and MADDER!

I said ‘now go away we’re closed, go away you can’t stay,

Go eat your turkey, and stuffing, and ham…and whey.

Max effort workout on Christmas Eve? That’s just not right,

Go fill up your bellies, watch football, hang stockings this night.’

 

‘Open up this dang door!’ I heard the heavyweight bellow.

‘Ok, Ok, calm down you big scary fellow.

I’ll open the door if you’ll relax and all just be mellow

But rerack your weights when you’re done, they make my legs all jell-o!’

 

They rushed to the back, with plates soon clanking and clattering,

a big white chalk dust cloud on everything besmattering.

Shouted words of encouragement, that were all none to flattering,

all business these guys, weights left no breath for chattering.

Again at the door I could hear a loud pounding,

over the din in the back, more urgent it was sounding.

‘What could it be now!’ through chalk cloud I wheezed

Whoa! it was Santa Claus, and he looked not a bit too pleased

 

He shook at them his finger, ‘Naughty list! Every one of you and all!

You frighten young children, and shake noobs from the exercise ball,

with heavy ass deadlifts you drop to the floor with such gall!

You get nothing this year, not under the tree nor your stocking. Nothing, nothing at all!’

Replied the big guy ‘yes we’ve besmirched squat rack curlers, booted them from our shrine

ridiculed upper body whores, half squatters, and other such swine.

We’ve bent many bars, dropped heavy weights, hoarded plates, called them mine,

and scattered knee wraps and belts, brought in our gym bags, to hell with the sign’

 

‘But before you pass judgment, in that long list of which you speak,

just look at little Tiny Timmy, once puny, scrawny and quite weak

his body shriveled and sickly, no pecs with which to press

and those legs, his squat and deadlift 1RMs, I’m sure you can guess’

 

‘We’ve broken him down, built him up, made him lift, sleep and eat.

We’ve piled weight on his back till he couldn’t get to his feet

Made him lift until failure, when he could do no more reps we roared REPEAT!!!

Now State records he’s earned, and HE’s WON HIS FIRST MEET!!!’

 

‘Now off on your way, back to the eve’s errands with you

and take with you MY OWN list, and it’s a long one too!

Bench shirts and squat suits, tight knee wraps that leave your skin blue

mountains of chalk and weight belts, why a gym bag quite full

of all this good stuff that builds big squat, bench and pull!’

 

Now Santa Claus knowing not what to say, slinked off in silence, his gait now a drag

‘cuz he knew records and gold medals were not in his bag

Once through the door, I swear I saw him scratching his list

and I’m sure the powerlifting team will never again be missed…