DIVORCE OF A PENSIONER
When this elderly lady walked into the fitness centre, the security guard was so taken aback that he didn’t know what to do. She fixed him with a sharp look and asked bluntly:
People lift weights in here?
Not waiting for an answer, she boldly strode towards the gym floor.
Oi! Where do you think youre going? the guard shouted after her, scrambling to catch up and block her path.
Oh, dont make a fuss! she replied, brushing him off. I just want to check if this place is suitable for my grandson, thats all.
Hold on, madam! he grabbed her sleeve. You cant come in wearing those muddy shoes!
She shook off his hand. Get off! I said Im only having a look!
Inside the gym, she paused, surveying the sceneyoung, fashionable men and women running on treadmills and working on various machines.
Madam, you really need to leave! the guard persisted. Only sports kit allowed in here!
Just give it a rest, will you? the bizarre visitor snapped.
Hearing her raised voice, the entire gym turned their attention, eyeing her with surprise and curiosity.
A fitness instructor named Graham hurried over to help the guard.
Whos this then, Dave? he asked, giving the older woman a stern look.
Dont ask me! Dave protested. She wont listen! I keep telling her about her shoes and she couldnt care less.
Oh, leave off, boy, the woman sighed. Im just looking, not breaking anything.
And what are you looking for, exactly? Graham asked. You retired and want to keep yourself healthy? You look strongyoud manage.
Thank you, son, the woman smiled wryly. But Im not choosing a gym for myself.
Who then?
My grandson. He needs bulking up a bit, to be honest. Hes puny.
Puny, is he? Thats a shame. Like that chap, whats his nameIf youre puny, straight to your grave…
Try a good rub down, she finished, quoting the old tune with a smirk. But to be honest, your gyms not quite what Im after.
Oh? And whys that? Graham looked flustered. Its a perfectly good gymlook at the equipment! The best kit, all brand new!
Come off it, she grunted. Thats not proper iron.
What else do you want then? Graham asked, baffled. And pardon me, but what do you know about it?
Me? My late father lifted kettlebells every morning for half an hour without fail. Built like a brick wall, he wasthree times your size, easy!
Kettlebells? Graham scrunched his face in disbelief. No one bothers with those nasties now! Weve got all the latest gearmachines for every muscle!
She shook her head. I want my grandson to lift real kettlebells, like his great-granddad. Do you have any?
Well, there might be one kicking about… Graham replied, rather grudgingly.
Right, fetch it here, then.
Why?
I want to check it out. If you do have kettlebells, maybe Ill bring my grandson. I might even pay for him myself.
Seriously? Grahams eyes widened.
Dead serious. But mind you, no eight-kilo tiddlers. I want a strongmans onethirty-two kilos! Ill test it myself.
Madam, are you sure? Graham laughed. What are you going to dobite it?
Ill lift it, obviously! I watched my dad do it, so I know the trick. Ill have a go.
You cant be serious! Graham laughed even louder. You wont so much as lift it off the ground.
What if I do? And press it overhead with one hand, calmly?
If you do, Ill eat my hat! Graham chuckled.
No need for that. If I manage it, just give me the kettlebell as a prize. Fair?
You want to bet? Graham grinned even wider. Fine, but what if you dont manage it?
She paused to think. All right. If I cant, Ill come here and be your cleaner for a whole monthfree of charge. Agreed?
Brilliant! We need a cleaner these days! Hold on, Ill fetch the kettlebell.
The instructor jogged off to the storeroom, leaving the security guard gaping. He leaned towards the woman:
Madam, you might want to make a quiet exit. Graham will bring that kettle, and youll try to lift it andGod forbidhurt yourself… Better leave now.
Oh, is it really that heavy? she asked, dubious.
Very heavy. Be careful.
Oh, go on, my father could lift one like that with his left hand, twenty times.
That was your father
Graham soon returned, huffing and puffing with the kettlebell. He set it before her.
There you go! Managed to find it. Thirty-two kilos, as ordered. Go on, then. Give it a try. Weve got plenty of witnesses now.
A small crowd of gym-goers had gathered, watching with keen interest.
Well then The woman flexed her arms a few times, limbering up. Witnesses, is it? Right, here we go. If I lose, I clean for a month. If I win
The kettlebells yours.
If I do two presses, how about you throw in dumbbellsmake up the weight to thirty-two kilos? And if I manage three, make it up to ninety-six kilos worth.
What? Graham laughed. Lets see if you can budge it first!
Scared of losing, are you?
Im not scared of anything! Go on, try it. You clean if you losemop and bucket ready for you!
Deal on? she cried.
Deal on!
She crossed herself, spat on her palm, gripped the kettlebell, and in one neat movement had it on her chest.
The crowd gasped. She straightened up and pressed it overheadonce, twice, three times
The onlookers roared, counting each press.
Four! Five!
Alright, thatll do, she said, a bit out of breath, as she lowered the weight with a thud. Could have done more, but no need to rob you blind. Youll be paying for all this out of your own pocket, wont you?
Graham stood there, utterly dumbstruck.
Ill take this kettlebell, she informed him briskly. And you, lad, get counting. How many dumbbells are owed? Or do I prefer a barbell? My cars out front. Bring me a hundred and twenty kilos of something, will you?
Kettlebell in hand, she calmly marched out.
Half an hour later, when the owner of the fitness centre arrived, the place was buzzing. None of the regulars were working out; instead, excited chatter filled the air. The instructors were huddled around Graham, trying to calm him down.
Whats going on here? the owner, Mr. Eugene Rutherford, demanded.
Its alright, boss, one instructor replied cagily. Just a bit of a laugh, really
A laugh? Rutherford frowned. Well, let me tell you one. I got tipped off by friends at another gymseems theres a woman going around conning instructors out of equipment.
Conning? Graham stared. How?
She turns up and makes a bet with the staffshell lift a massive kettlebell, one hand. Stakes the clubs gear. Then she knocks it out three, four times, and takes whatever shes won.
But why does she need so much kit? Graham asked, voice hollow.
Her grandsons starting up a gym. Shes stocking him upon the house.
And who is she, anyway? Hows she so strong?
Rumour is, shes some kind of European kettlebell champion in the pensioners league. So keep your eyes open, lads. Dont get taken for a ride by a pensioner.
Bit late for that, Mr. Rutherford Graham sighed. Much too lateJust then, a ripple of laughter ran through the staff lounge as someone nudged Graham and pointed to the window. Across the parking lot, the unmistakable figure of the pensioner could be seen, shouldering the big kettlebell and dragging a chain of dumbbells in a battered old shopping trolley. Every few steps she paused, adjusted her scarf, and shot a triumphant glance back at the gym.
Graham pressed his face to the glass, torn between awe and embarrassment. He watched as a skinny teenageralmost certainly the infamous grandsonvaulted out of a rusty hatchback and threw his arms around the old lady. Both of them cackled as they packed the haul into the boot, the hatch barely closing above the weights. As the car rolled away, tyres squealing, Graham caught sight of a sticker on the back: MY GRAN CAN LIFT YOUR DAD.
The staff stood in silence, then, one by one, burst out laughing. Even Mr. Rutherford couldnt help but grin.
Well, lads, he said, shaking his head, consider this a workout in humility. Next time anyone says pensioners cant lift, you know what to tell them.
As the laughter died down and people returned to their routines, Graham found himself smiling. Somewhere out there, a grandsons new gym was filling up with hard-won trophiesand a legend was growing, one kettlebell at a time.
