The hams at my gym don't really even seem to understand the concept of chalk. It doesn't seem to bother them though, their greasy, clamy ham hands don't do much work anyway. They get halfway up a 5.2 then stop, heaving from either the weight of their massive body collapsing their lungs or the excitement they will get from telling everyone with ears how they worked SO HARD at the gym earlier and deserve the family sized bucket at chicken they are shoving in their face. Oh then they go home to make their daydreams a reality.