“What would you rather do?” I said.
“I don’t know.”
“We’ll only do it on weekdays. We’ll take Saturday and Sunday off and do other stuff.”
“What?”
“Anything you want. We’ll go look at things. We’ll fish, shoot, go to museums, swim when the weather’s warmer, see a ball game in case you learn to like them, eat out, see a movie, go to a play, go down to Boston and hang around. Have I hit anything you like yet?”
Paul shrugged. I nodded. By two thirty the Sox were three runs ahead behind Eckersley and our lunch had settled.
“Let’s get to it,” I said. “We’ll do three sets of each exercise to start with. We’ll do bench presses, curls, pullovers, flyes, some shrugs, some sit-ups. We’ll work out combinations on the heavy bag and I’ll show you how to work the speed bag.”
I hung a big canteen of water on one of the tree branches. It was covered with red-striped blanket material and it always made me feel like Kit Carson to drink from it.
“Drink all the water you want. Rest in between times. No hurry. We got the rest of the day.”
“I don’t know how to do any of those things.”
“I know. I’ll show you. First we’ll see how much you can work with. We’ll start with bench presses.”
I put the big York bar on the bench rests with no weight on it.
“Try that,” I said.
“Without any weights?”
“It’s heavy enough. Try it for starters. If it’s too light we can add poundage.”
“What do I do?”
“I’ll show you.” I lay on my back on the bench, took the barbell in a medium-wide grip, lifted it off the rack, lowered it to my chest, and pushed it straight up to arms’ length. Then I lowered it to my chest and pushed it up again. “Like so,” I said. “Try to do it ten times if you can.”
I put the bar back on the rack and got up. Paul lay on tie bench.
“Where do I hold it?”
“Spread your hands a little, like that. That’s good. Keep your thumbs in, like this, so if it’s too heavy it won’t break your thumbs. I’ll spot you here.”
“What’s spot?”
“I’ll have a hand on it to be sure you don’t drop it on yourself.”
Paul wrestled it off the rack. It was too heavy for him. His thin arms shook with the strain as he lowered it to his narrow chest I had a hand lightly at the midpoint of the bar.
“Okay,” I said. “Good. Good. Now push it up. Breathe in, now blow out and shove the bar up, shove, blow, shove.” I did some cheerleading.
Paul arched his back and struggled. His arms shook more. I put a little pressure under the bar and helped him. He got it extended.
“Now onto the rack,” I said. I helped him guide it over and set it in its place. His face was very red.
“Good,” I said. “Next time we’ll do two.”
“I can’t even do it,” he said.
“Sure you can. You just did it”
“You helped me.”
“Just a bit. One of the things about weights is you make progress fast at first It’s encouraging.”
“I can’t even lift it without the weights,” he said.
“In a couple of months you’ll be pressing more than your own weight,” I said. “Come on. We’ll do another one.”
He tried again. This time I had to help him more.
“I’m getting worse,” he said.
“Naturally, you’re getting tired. The third try will be even harder. That’s the point. You work the muscle when it’s tired and it breaks down faster and new muscle builds up quicker.” I was beginning to sound like Arnold Schwarzenegger. Paul lay red-faced and silent on the bench. There were fine blue veins under the near-translucent skin of his chest. The collarbone, the ribs, and the sternum were all clearly defined against the tight skin. He didn’t weigh a hundred pounds.
“Last try,” I said. He took the bar off its rest and this time I had to keep it from dropping on him. “Up now,” I said, “blow it up. This is the one that counts most. Come on, come on, up, up, up. Good. Good.”
We set the bar back on the bench. Paul sat up. His arms were still trembling slightly.
“You do some,” he said.
I nodded. I put two fifty-pound plates on each end of the bar and lay on the bench. I lifted the weight off the cradle and brought it to my chest.
