Of late a some of the (younger) guys at the gym have taken it upon themselves to come over to my bench to offer weight lifting advice or to get me to force out an extra rep or two. In another vein, a smart-alec from the interior, made a point today of cracking some joke in order to bust me up laughing and screw up my set.
Often the advice just highlights that I am not doing what I should know better. Just as often it has entailed something new which helps me toward a better failure. Spotting and forced reps are always useful provided I don’t pop a tendon or break a joint.
“Mascot” is too strong a term but, if the young’uns take any affirmative interest in my heaving iron, it’s a sign that I’ve gone beyond being another old fart trying to avoid a heart attack to the far more interesting phenomenon of an old fart risking one.... :)
In all events, it’s not true that you can’t put on muscle after 30.... ;)
