This Is Why I’m Like This

It wasn’t fine.

I wasn’t fine, y’all.

I don’t vomit easily.

Nausea isn’t a sensation I often experience.

Two children and not an ounce of morning sickness.

Tequila. Whiskey. Moonshine. Copious amounts. I can barely make it down off the mountain.

But no hangover.

Y’all. I eat expired foods ALL OF THE TIME. I’m not sure why I even have a refrigerator. Except to keep my beer cold. The foods I put into my body are questionable AF.

But nope. No nausea.


I showed up to Leg Day at PlayFITStayFIT yesterday.

Leg Day.

My day.

I’m a runner.


This should be my easiest day to transition back in on.

And four minutes into the workout. I was pretty sure I was going to vomit.

And I would feel that way for the entire hour.

And I’m pretty sure it was a full hour.

But I don’t actually know.

Because the fucking clock broke.

So we had to trust J-Vicious to time our two minute rounds. On his phone. That we couldn’t see.

Do you know how long two minutes feels after 400 back squats?


Four hundred.

At least.

Probably more.

Because math.

And because you had to beat everyone else to move onto the next exercise.

And I couldn’t beat anyone last night.

Because my body was not ready to hoist 350 lbs onto its shoulders. And just go to town squatting.

Ok. Because there are a few of you that do legit strength training on the regular. And because maybe 350 lbs on a back squat is perhaps within the realm of real life for y’all. I don’t actually know. I’ll admit that I may be exaggerating a teeny tiny bit.

But there was definitely a 3 and a 5 in the weight J-V forced into my hands.

So, by the time I finally made it through the rounds to front squats. And weighted lunges. And duck walks.

And FINALLY on to sumo squats. An exercise I actually generally enjoy. Because I spend most of it stretching my legs in ways I don’t stretch enough. I couldn’t. I couldn’t enjoy it. Because I was fully focused on not dying.

Question. How long have we been doing this?

35 minutes.

Well, that can’t possibly be true.

43 minutes.

Yes. That. Ok. So we’re basically done.

No. You’re done when I say you’re done.

And this was the point at which the entire gym turned on J-Vicious.

Admittedly, we were emboldened by the sight of his wife, B-Major, calling it. And walking off the floor.

But for reals, she’s the boss. Not, like, the “I have the title the trainer and what I say goes” pretend boss.

But, like, the legit boss.

But even without her leadership, I’m pretty sure I would’ve spent any remaining time leaning into the industrial fan in the corner of the room not even caring if my entire head accidentally got sucked up into it.

Except when you rebel like that?

J-Vicious gets in his feelings.

And forces weights back into your hands.

And plays the worst song in. the. fucking. world.

Fucking Sally.

Fucking Sally Back Squats.

I haven’t seen my legs shake like that since the last time I enjoyed a man.

So, like, a really long time.


And here’s also what happens when you’ve been away from the fitness for too long.

Leg Day doesn’t just fuck with your legs.

Skratch thought he was being funny this morning. Saying I should make someone take me to Arm Day today. To even out the pain.

(And yes. “Take me.” Because I’m not sure how I’ll get myself there. Because legs.)

But my arms are also fucking useless right now.

They were in no way prepared to hold onto a 35 lb barbell for 46 minutes and 30 seconds.

So. I’m struggling. To not only walk my legs up and down the stairs to and from my kitchen. But also to maintain a grasp on my coffee mug as I do this.

It’s not pretty, y’all.

Fitness is just not pretty.

So, anyway.

That’s why I’m like this.

I mean, physically.

Not, like, who I am as a person. It’s not why I’m like that. It doesn’t explain that. No one can explain that.

On the bright side. There’s coffee at work, at least.

Because this.

I just need to find the right people susceptible enough to my whining that they’ll carry it to my desk for me…

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