I was excited 'Maxim' wanted me to be in Expert Fitness.

Host: The gym was empty, save for the low thrum of machines cooling down after hours and the faint smell of iron, chalk, and sweat — the perfume of determination. The mirrors reflected rows of still dumbbells and forgotten water bottles, their surfaces fogged from the day’s effort. In the far corner, under the blue hum of a fluorescent light, Jack was lacing up his training shoes.

He wasn’t there to train anymore — not really. He was there to remember why he ever started.

Across the room, Jeeny stood near the punching bag, her arms crossed, her expression somewhere between amusement and reverence as she watched him tie the last knot.

Host: The air was thick with the silence that follows sweat — the moment after motion, when purpose has to speak for itself.

Jeeny: (smiling) “Bobby Lashley once said, ‘I was excited “Maxim” wanted me to be in Expert Fitness.’”

Jack: (grinning) “You mean the magazine? The one with all the glossy abs and impossible lighting?”

Jeeny: “The very same. But it’s not about vanity — it’s about validation. He wasn’t celebrating being looked at. He was celebrating being seen.”

Jack: “There’s a difference, isn’t there? Being seen for what you are versus being noticed for what you look like.”

Jeeny: “Exactly. People think athletes only chase strength. But really, they chase recognition — proof that all the pain meant something.”

Jack: (leaning back on the bench) “And for Lashley, that proof came when the world that once ignored him suddenly called him an ‘expert.’”

Jeeny: “Even though he’d been one long before they noticed.”

Host: The lights flickered slightly, the hum of the air conditioner syncing with their quiet conversation.

Jack: “You know what I love about that quote? It’s so simple — almost trivial. But beneath it, there’s a whole story of struggle. Every rep, every setback, every bruise — all compressed into that one line: ‘I was excited.’”

Jeeny: “Because excitement is what comes after endurance. You don’t get joy without pain. You don’t get pride without exhaustion.”

Jack: “Yeah. People think fitness is about muscles. It’s not. It’s about discipline — the invisible kind. The kind no one claps for.”

Jeeny: “Until a magazine finally does.”

Jack: (laughs softly) “Right. Then they call you an ‘expert.’ As if expertise was born in a photoshoot.”

Jeeny: “But for him, it wasn’t the fame. It was the arrival. The moment when all those invisible hours got a face, a headline, a validation.”

Host: The rain began to tap faintly against the gym windows, soft but steady. Jack looked up at the sound, his reflection glistening faintly under the light — the kind of sheen that wasn’t sweat but memory.

Jack: “It’s funny, though. Success never looks like what you imagine when you’re grinding for it. You think it’s going to feel divine. But it just feels... earned.”

Jeeny: “Earned. And a little unreal. Because by the time the world notices, you’ve already moved past the moment.”

Jack: “Exactly. You’re already training for the next one.”

Host: Jeeny picked up a dumbbell from the rack, weighing it absentmindedly in her hand — as if measuring more than weight.

Jeeny: “I think that’s what Lashley understood. You can be grateful for recognition, but you can’t let it define you. Because the minute you start flexing for applause, you stop lifting for purpose.”

Jack: “And purpose doesn’t photograph well.”

Jeeny: “But it’s the only thing that lasts.”

Host: A soft beat of music started playing from the old gym speakers — something low, rhythmic, almost meditative. The sound of repetition and focus.

Jack: “You know, athletes and artists aren’t that different. We both train in solitude. We both bleed for invisible progress. And when we finally get noticed, the world calls it sudden.”

Jeeny: “Overnight success built on years of mornings.”

Jack: (nodding) “Exactly. The real victory isn’t the magazine cover — it’s waking up the next day and doing it again.”

Host: The clock on the wall ticked steadily, indifferent but honest.

Jeeny: “You think he still feels that excitement? After all the fights, the fame, the spotlight?”

Jack: “I think he still feels the same hunger. Real strength isn’t about being satisfied — it’s about being relentless.”

Jeeny: “And humble enough to remember the first time someone said ‘you’re good at this.’”

Jack: (smiling) “That’s what keeps you grounded. Every success has its seed in that first recognition — the small nod that says, ‘You’re seen.’”

Host: Jeeny set the dumbbell back down gently. The echo was soft, but it carried weight — like a punctuation mark to everything they’d said.

Jeeny: “So his excitement wasn’t about fame. It was about finally being visible after being invisible for so long.”

Jack: “And realizing visibility doesn’t change who you are — it just shines a light on what you’ve already built.”

Host: The camera panned slowly across the gym — empty treadmills, silent punching bags, the faint reflection of light on iron. The hum of the night wrapped around them, full of still energy.

And over that quiet, Bobby Lashley’s words lingered — humble, human, and triumphant:

“I was excited ‘Maxim’ wanted me to be in Expert Fitness.”

Host: Because sometimes, the victory isn’t the spotlight —
it’s the acknowledgment.

It’s knowing that the world has finally caught up
to the strength you’ve carried all along.

And in that moment — brief, shining, real —
you learn that pride isn’t vanity,
it’s vindication.