I stand with them.

Yesterday I made my annual trip to the Arnold Schwarzenegger Fitness Expo. A few steps with a destination. Most times I just walk, try to get some steps, if the walk sign is lit at the intersection, I walk, if not I change direction. Exercise using the laws of fluid motion, harder to hit a moving target. My latest Fit Bit will remind me. "Only 175 steps to go this hour." if it thinks you are not trying hard enough. So, I change direction and keep moving.

"Where did you go?" Someone will ask when I return from my lunch time walk.

"I went south for a while, then turned west, then headed north along Front street then kind of headed back, a little east, a little north and a bit of south mixed in." I try to remember all the directions but it never works very well. I'm not good with directions, I haven't even mastered the basics of left and right. I'm probably lucky to make it back to work.

But, sometimes I have a goal, and I can shuffle along with a purpose. And shuffle back, too.

The Arnold Fitness Expo brings in people from all over. Some to compete, some to exhibit, others to dream. It is always the dreamers that I enjoy.

The Family of Man

They come, thinking it is time to start getting fit. But, nobody, none of us, are ever sure how to get started. A whole convention center filled with displays, booths, competitions all built around the central goal of getting fit seems like a good place to start.

So they come, a pilgrimage from Tennessee, Virginia, Michigan, seeking guidance. And they carry out bags of stuff. Big, bulging bags of powders, and neoprene compression sleeves, and videos, and hope. Mostly hope.

Most of the people with the biggest bags look as though they need the most help. Aging, heavier, and probably under orders from a doctor to get in better shape. Hypertension, heart disease, diabetes, they hammer away at us with these terrors, and tell us we need to get in better shape, and then they schedule our next appointment. And we walk away, feeling fat, lazy, suicidal and lost.

I fight back by going to the gym three times a week, and chasing my steps limping through the streets and parks of Columbus with as much enthusiasm as I can muster. Others seek the aid of the professionals. People bulging with muscles, who've made a life out of chiseling their body into a rippling monument to exertion.

I see people working toward that end at my gym. They have all of the protein and pills and wonder devices, but they also are screaming with exertion, and pushing themselves and each other without mercy. They work hard, harder than I would ever be willing to work. I salute them.

It is the dreamers and worried souls that draw me to the festival. A chance to see others who are a little worried, and trying to improve, who want to live better, feel better. Those are the competitors I want to watch, I want to win.