Littleweights at the Gym

It was a bustling afternoon at the Taramundi community gym. The weight machines creaked endlessly, and the rhythmic thud of sneakers against the floor created an almost musical beat.

Everyone was training with enthusiasm, everyone except for one person: Ronaldo.

Ronaldo was the strongest and most conceited person there. With his tight-fitting shirt and dazzling smile, he strutted around the gym looking down his nose at everyone else.

Every time someone tried to lift a weight or do a push-up, he would burst into exaggerated laughter and say: — Let me show you how it’s really done! —
Some felt sad, others angry, but nobody said anything.

From a hidden corner behind the water fountain, Littleweights, a Magikito wearing a vest made from scraps of sports bandages and torn sneakers, watched the situation unfold. He didn’t like seeing someone use their strength to humiliate others. So he decided to intervene.

With a gentle wave of his tiny hands, he spread an invisible thick cream over the weight plates, dumbbells, fitness balls, and barbells. His magic was subtle but powerful.

When Ronaldo went to lift his usual 220-pound barbell to impress the girl next to him, something strange happened. He put all his strength into it, but the bar didn’t budge an inch. He tried again, turning red as a beet, but nothing. The others, puzzled, came over to try. A little girl lifted the bar easily, as if it were made of plastic.

An elderly gentleman juggled with it. Everyone laughed with joy, not mocking Ronaldo, but enjoying together how fun it was to lift so much weight with such ease.

Ronaldo, embarrassed, sat down on a bench. For the first time in a long while, he felt what it was like to have less strength than others. And seeing that nobody was making fun of him and that everyone was simply expressing their happiness, he realized how wonderful it is to share good things.

He stood up, took a deep breath, and approached a group of beginners trying to do squats.

— Hey there! — he said with a genuine smile. — Would you like me to show you a trick to protect your knees? —

From that day on, Ronaldo became the most patient and encouraging trainer at the gym. He taught everyone at their own pace, celebrated their small achievements, and no longer needed to show off for attention, because everyone already loved him just as he was.

Littleweights, satisfied, hopped into the ball basket for a nap, leaving a small trail of light and joy in his wake. His work there was done.

Because sometimes, a little bit of humility can lift much more than weights: it can lift the spirits of those who are trying.

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