The Gym Life Chose Me

“Stop whining. You chose this.”

“I didn’t choose the gym life. The gym life chose me.”

And it chose the hell outta me this week.

Because after my last post, after Beautiful Beastie worked my arms to the point of uselessness, Skratch and J-Vicious both dared me to go to Arm Day.

So obviously I had to.

He’s gonna tell you that he made me cry. J-Vicious.

I’m gonna tell you that was just sweat rolling out of my eyes. And the sounds of happiness coming out of my mouth.

I have to keep taking breaks from typing this. Because arms.

At one point I was trying to use the bandy thing to support me through my 5,000th pull up. When J-Vicious made me readjust the band.

“Do you know what it took for me to get my foot in this band in the first place???”

“An act of God. I don’t care.”

And because we were moving through these exercises as a group, everyone had to keep standing there watching me. Waiting for me to cry, I mean beast my way through all of the push ups. And overhead presses. And lateral raises.

Muscle failure is real, y’all.

But it’s cool. My plan was to rest Friday and Saturday for our trip to Hanging Rock on Sunday.

I could afford to abuse myself for a little while longer.

So I rolled right on outta PlayFITStayFIT before J-Vicious could say the word “Sally” and drove myself down to Chaos.

For a nice little jaunt around the mountain.

In the rain.

So I was Strava-less. Because my Strava is my phone. Because I’m still not wealthy enough for an actual watch. And I can’t afford to replace my phone. So I can’t Strava in the rain.

So of course I have no real record of this.

But for reals. The insane amount of abuse I’ve put my body through this week seems to have ignited something. Because I’m pretty sure I ran that loop faster than I ever have.

GJB may try to claim some credit for that. Because these.

Runners Warehouse.


His recommendation.

Now we’re twinsies.

But I think my body was really just focused on getting back to the taco truck and beer as fast as possible.

I had my meal ordered before we even started our run.

Rogue rolled in on two wheels right before the start looking like a freakin model in her work clothes.

We made her change into running clothes. So I could still feel ok about myself.

And tried to take the pre-run pic while she was in the bathroom, but she managed to come sliding into the pic at the last second.

And then we took off.

And GJB said something about going for his fastest time.

And my brain seemed to process that as a command.

The way it seems to be processing every fucking suggestion these days.

So I took off.

And felt amazing for the first mile.

And then my legs started remembering leg day. And Body Pump. And lack of sleep.

They slowed down significantly. But not nearly as much as normal.

I made GJB add me to his Strava. But he did freakin segments. Because he’s all fancy and shit. And I didn’t quite keep up with him.

I kept him in my sights most of the time. And finished right on his heels.

But I don’t really know how well I ran the route.

I just know I felt strong as hell.

Beautiful Beastie and Tiny Brazilian made us do some post-Run balance work.

I was feeling pretty good about myself. And the prospect of sleeping all day for the next two days.

And then I sat down with everyone. And started engaging in conversation.

That’s the problem.

If you really want a rest day, you really have to just get your run in and get out.

Avoid conversation.

And eye contact.

Definitely don’t sit at a table with other people.

That’s how I ended up back at PlayFITStayFIT at 5am this morning.

And because Fall Risk is a damn snitch, Tiny Brazilian hounded me the whole damn time.

And not only that, freakin Trifecta was there calling me out for every-damn-thing. Meanwhile he’s over here doing burpees on his knees and skipping entire stations.

Snitches be everywhere, yo.

I’m pretty sure it was his punk ass that suggested Thunderstruck burpees to end the class.

But when Endong showed up after class to reclaim his ball from Rogue, and take us on a one mile ball throw, punk ass Trifecta peaced out.

It’s cool.

The hardcore folks stuck around. And threw both of Endong’s balls all over the damn parking lot. Burpees. Squats. Jumping Jacks. Bear crawls. There’s no limit to the shit we’ll do in a parking lot in the name of badassery.

Until we get hungry.

And Rogue starts making threats.

And I start whining.

Rogue reclaimed Endong’s little ball.

And I transported Endong and his bigger ball to get his car.

It’s still in my trunk.

His big ball.

He’s now ball-less.

I’m not sure how he’ll manage without them.

So he’ll probably just have to come to Beautiful Beastie’s Water Power and Death Click classes tomorrow morning.

Because that’s where his big ball and I will be.

Because of conversations…

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