Physical Conditioning for Physicists

November 1, 2001

Most physics majors spend their free time sitting around in the physics lounge, and get no regular exercise.  Because of this, most physics undergrads die of heart disease before commencement.  To combat this, the Physics Department filed a petition with the University to require all aspiring physicists to take an additional and ultra-intense gym class, PHYS418: Physical Conditioning for Physicists.  This is a class so dread that none of the gym teachers dare teach it.  Instead they would write about the merits of kickball for a Ph.D., add another section of Physical Conditioning for Business Administrators and Economists, or watch a misty-eyed Richard Simmons start up his Step Aerobics for Drama Queens.  Nevertheless, we managed to find a volunteer, and he was from our department too.

            Sadly, this was Dr. Walkiewicz.  Walkiewicz, the doppelgänger of TV’s “Mr. Belvedere,” was an amazingly brilliant scientist, who was capable of walking through mathematical cesspools and come out smelling like a rose.  He taught some of the introductory classes, and it was his job to weed out the weak, so he would put forth a rather gruff demeanor.  Those who’ve just started out find him a tad callous, for he was as cuddly as Dick Butkus with shards of broken glass glued to his skin.

He was hell-bent on making us suffer.  All our classes were held outside, and we stood in the heat and the cold, the snow and the wet.

I would be forced to hold the CRC Handbook of Chemistry and Physics in front of me at arm’s length and do squats, all while reciting our mechanics formulae like mantras and getting pelted by basketball-sized hail.  When this task proved to be too easy, the cumbersome book was replaced with a DC power supply, or a bulky oscilloscope.  This didn’t bother me.

Nor did the push-ups.  We did every kind of push-up conceivable.  Push-ups, knuckle push-ups, diamond push-ups, clapping push-ups, one-armed push-ups, and even the notoriously difficult no-armed push-ups.  The only things that bothered me were the philosophers, who trained nearby.

When told to do push-ups, they would all sit Indian-style in a semicircle and talk, and talk, and talk. They had to determine whether or not their arms and the ground existed before doing push-ups.  Then they would discuss the existential need for push-ups.  When it came time to actually do the push-ups, they couldn’t agree on a way to do so, because according to Relativism, all points of view are equally valid.  Fortunately, they soon died of heart disease, so I was spared their innate ramblings.

Our final exam was an obstacle course of sorts, consisting of a force and displacement problem (meaning we had to apply a force to displace an object), electrical wiring, a brief chemistry lab, and we had to swim across Fake Lake.  Swimming across Fake Lake bothered us greatly.  It wasn’t the goose excrement that bothered us -- it was the crocodiles.

All of the nation’s sick or injured crocodiles were sent to Edinboro due to a clerical error.  No one can explain how these cold-blooded reptiles can survive the brutal Edinboro winters, what with the freezing rains and lake effect snows.  Because of this, Edinboro University has become a Mecca of sorts for reptile study.  Walkiewicz kept trying to reassure us that since they were badly hurt, that they were heavily sedated on morphine drips and such.

We still refused.

The chemistry component was held on a large floating platform on the water’s edge, which was a simple ruse to get us to the water.  From there Walkiewicz tied a rope to the floating dock, and the other end to a motorboat.  He dragged us into the middle of the lake, cut the rope, and left.

            To make things worse, the crocs were coming out of their opiate-induced stupor and started to groggily meander about the lake.  I turned to fellow physicist Mike McClimans to formulate an escape plan, only to find a crocodile lazily gumming through his chest.  I tried my best to save him by beating the croc about the head and face with the CRC, but it was to no avail, and the crocs sent him screaming into the deep.

I was determined to ensure that our sufferings were not in vain.  Utilizing my working knowledge of thermochemistry and by thinking back to a childhood of watching “MacGyver” with almost religious devotion, I could easily make powerful explosives from the meager chemicals and equipment I was provided with.

I tossed these beaker bombs into the lake, where they exploded, killing some of the crocs.  I then used the pioneering skills that I had taught to many a Tenderfoot Scout to construct a dead crocodile raft, and I rowed myself to safety using one of Mike’s severed legs as an oar, tossing bombs all the while.

I had survived the obstacle course, and when I got back to class, Walkiewicz gave me an “A.”