“The last exercise that we’ll do is Fall Risk’s favorite. And we’ll do 50 of those.”
I know what Fall Risk’s favorite is. We all know what Fall Risk’s favorite is. We don’t know why they’re her favorite. But we know what they are.
But Fall Risk wasn’t even “in” virtual class tonight.
So I immediately picked up my phone. And cussed her out. By text.
Fucking manmakers. Fucking 50 of them.
Her response? “That sucks.”
You suck.
Y’all know what manmakers are? I’ve complained about them before, yes?
You pick up the lightest set of dumbbells J-Vicious will let you get away with. You burpee your ass down into a push up position. You do a renegade row on each arm. You burpee your ass back up into a squat position. Then press the damn weights up above your head.
Fifty.
I wasn’t even gonna go to class tonight. I wasn’t even supposed to be here.
I spent the weekend spontaneously on call. When I wasn’t prepared, or technically scheduled, to be. But apparently every adolescent in Roanoke city is on probation right now.
And apparently not even a pandemic. Or end of days storms. Can convince them to comply with house arrest.
And I spent today prepping my class that starts tomorrow. And updating systems and reports. And listening to my animals arguing. All damn day.
I mean, they were arguing to the point that Lobo has now injured himself.
Because he yelled at Stinky. To stop drinking out of his dish. Because he doesn’t want to catch the COVIDs.
And Stinky informed him that he can’t catch the COVIDs. Dumbass.
And I think it was the “dumbass” part that inspired Lobo to try to jump up and snatch him up by his hind parts. Except he’s, like, 80. He doesn’t “jump up” anymore. But he forgot that. And ended up nose diving with all fours sprawled in every direction. And, well, now he’s limpy.
And he struggled slowly through our lunchtime walk.
And he keeps muttering things about how he wishes a cat would catch the COVIDs.
So when I’d finally shut my computers down. And saw that it was 4:45. I just went ahead and logged into ZOOM. Without thinking. Because if I think, I’ll nap. That’s how that works in my brain.
I didn’t actually want to work out.
I was tired.
I wanted to just sit on my couch with a bag of Doritos and a book and read until I fell asleep.
But I was just letting whatever tiny part of my being that contains the motivation just operate on auto control.
And that tiny part of my being decided to put J-Vicious’s ginormous head onto the television screen.
Seriously. That is some frightfully real life scale right there.
But this also meant that I couldn’t see anyone else on the workout.
I don’t think I’ll be doing that again with future PlayFITStayFIT workouts.
I’m gonna save that feature for Roanoke Yoga routines. Magical Yogess is much more pleasing to look at.
And I need to see other people in PFSF class. I need to know I’m not alone. Suffering. Because misery…
But I managed the workout. And lemme do some math.
50 burpees
90 push ups
120 weighted squats
140 weighted lunges
150 shoulder presses
150 weighted pop squats
140 incline push hps
120 bicep curls
90 tricep extensions
That is why. That is why I never made it to the 50 manmakers.
Because when you know that’s what’s coming at the end, you learn how to manage your time appropriately. So that you just miss squeezing those in before time is up.
Shoot.
And because that tiny part of my being was apparently still in control. I tried going out for a run after class. Like Fall Risk and I used to do. Back when we were allowed out in society.
Except I forgot that most of the time, we’d just get beer and tacos and chill the fuck out while everyone else ran.
So I barely managed 2 1/2 sluggish miles. Before taking back control of my brain. And taking my ass back home for a shower, food, and couch.
And just in case you wanted to try this particular PFSF workout. Because you’re sadistic or whatever. You can’t. Because J-V forgot to record it.
But I hear there may be a redo at tomorrow’s 5 o’clock class.
Pretty sure ima be busy at 5pm.
Because Fall Risk suggested that J-V move the manmakers to the first exercise. Which is pure bullshit.
*looking at that tiny part of my being* I swear to fuck if I hear one peep out of you today, I’m gonna tie you up and gag you and spend the rest of my summer lying on the couch slamming bags of Doritos.
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