Popeye.

Or when good weights go very bad.
As most of you are bored rigid hearing, weights, me likey. Today I"m going to be hitting the bench, performing some painful back extensions (me no likey so much) some hideous pull ups and quite possibly-if I have any strength left in my right little finger- some dips, which will kill me in a spectacular fashion making the drive back from the gym a teeth clenching journey of ouch.
I won't be doing any running today as I am doing the Adidas five mile in the park tomorrow at 10-am, this also mean I have had to postpone my date with mister Rum tonight. But no matter, Rum was upset but he's a fine chap and he'll see me tomorrow no doubt.
Anyhoo, as much as I like doing weights and so on, there are some folk who should really ask themselves why oh why they do it? I do it to make my body stronger, to burn fat-even when resting, muscles need energy to maintain- to avoid osteoporosis later in life and you know, to keep healthy and shit.
Some people clearly do it to look like cartoon characters.