Well dear friends, today started a brand new chapter in the life and times of your fearless hero, I actually rolled my butt out of bed and went over to the Davison Athletic Club and attempted this little thing that many of you like to call, “working out.” My lovely and talented Rachel has been going and exercising quite regularly so in a show of support I figured the least my fat ass could do would be too join her and see how it goes. In my life I have never set foot in a gym or training facility and any exercise I got was from searching aimlessly for my lost golf balls in the woods or running to the refrigerator for a cold beer and a snack. So, how did it go you may be asking? Well, let me cut right to the chase, if I had an option of going back again or taking an all-inclusive vacation in Fallujah I would literally have to take a few minutes to make up my mind. Just the act of typing on this laptop is causing me pain in areas of my body that I didn’t even know existed. I am also concerned that my training partner / instructor is taking great joy in the fact that I am hobbling about the house like an 85 year old man. I had begged her to take it easy on me due to my “newbie” status but apparently putting her in a gym setting turns her into the drill sergeant from “Full Metal Jacket.” So, let’s take a second and summarize this morning’s activities.
We get to the gym and enter the fitness area and the room is bustling with activity. I stare at the machinery and think to myself, so this is what the inside of a Russian labor prison must look like. As I stand there in a state of abject terror Rachel says to me, “Let’s go over and warm up on the elliptical.” Now, I have heard the term elliptical before so I thought to myself alright that should be low on terror and fairly safe for my old, fat body. Yeah, that was mistake number one, we shall now and forever moving forward call the elliptical “the sliding trapeze of death.” After taking a few minutes to understand the contraption, I proceeded to spend roughly 5 minutes trying to not fall off of the fucking death machine. I am sure I had all of the elegance of everyone’s drunk Uncle Harry dancing to “Old Time Rock and Roll” at any wedding reception. After successfully not killing myself and apparently burning 30 whole calories (whoopdee fucking doo) and feeling pretty positive about that, my favorite gym gangster swished her blonde hair and says lets go over and do some crunches. I walk over to this machine and there are a bunch of basketball type objects and it is set up sort of like a pop a shot game that you see in sports bars everywhere. Now we’re talking, I mean this sets up perfectly for my particular skill set, shooting baskets in the bar while drinking beers and eating chicken wings. Why had she not let me start right here? I mean this has got to be perfect for me, right? Um, hell fucking no. Somehow I end up on that damn floor with these weighted death balls and I am supposed to do sit ups and toss them in the pop a shot? What the hell, where is the beer and cheese sticks? I apparently had been sold a bill of goods on this one and after doing this 30 times, and for the record draining all 30 shots like a fat, bloated Steph Curry, I have basically lost all feeling in my upper body and midsection. I am not going to go into the details of every exercise, but let’s just say there were things done to my body that even the S&M crowd would blush at.
In summary, I am not sure how I feel about this whole thing, I was hoping to get myself in better shape, maybe hit the golf ball a little farther this summer, but at this point my core muscles are crushed and I have lost feeling in many extremities. I am still staggered that people actually do this voluntarily and for fun (I’m looking at you, three girls in the corner with a combined weight of 326 pounds, 1% body fat and the strength to bench press a Subaru) I already hate them on principle alone even though I am sure they are delightful people. I have heard the phrase “your body is your temple” but to be honest mine feels more like a dilapidated Moose Lodge right now (no offense to all my Moose peeps out there) and I am not sure I will even be able to get out of bed tomorrow morning. I am in pain from head to toe and to all the people who always said they get such a “high” from exercise, just shut the hell up, I can now verify for a fact that this garbage was made up at some point, probably by the CEO of Planet Fitness or some shit. There is no “high” just pain and more pain.
Thanks everyone for reading and please share and comment.