I’m gonna keep this one short and sweet guys, there’s a whole bunch of stuff we need to get sorted today and I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I’d rather spend the rest of today with my lady than bashing out another epic post.
All the posts this week have actually been pretty epic. Life just seems really full at the moment, I don’t know if you’re feeling it to, but there’s a buzz in the air this year that I swear is so tangible it feels like my skin is sparking with electricity.
Of course, that could also be because I’m tearing through the gym these days like a loose propeller. We’re only 9 days into the year and I’ve already clocked 4 sessions. Admittedly, for the first two I was embarrassingly sweaty and red-faced, but once those were out the way, session 3 and 4 already felt better.
I’m lucky to come from a lean gene pool – there is no history of obesity in either my mom or my dad’s side of the family, and as such, I have the metabolism of a race horse. Of course, given another 4 or 5 years I’m sure this will change, but that doesn’t bother me.
Gym is really funny though. I watch other guys in the gym who go wearing their designer Body In Motion gear with all the latest gym accessories money can buy, run for a bit on the treadmill, do a few sets on the machines and go home without breaking a sweat, and I think to myself, Why bother?
I go in loose fitting faded shirts, brown shorts and old Nike shoes, I do cardio until my heart feels like it’s going to explode, catch my breath, and then hit the machines and free weights, working steadily toward that killer burn you start to feel in your muscles that sends endorphins flooding like a capsized oil tanker into your blood.
And then I go back and do it all over again. I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again, I’m a sucker for punishment.
My goal is 4 sessions a week, every week of this year. If I maintain that and try keep the binge drinking to a minimum, by December I’ll be a fucking MACHINE.
And yes, THEM’S fightin’ words 😉
-ST
