The Days of Our Thighs

I see my readership is torn on whether I'll achieve my goal of becoming The New Adonis™© or if it will kill me. This poll is turning out to be a real nail biter!

Walking into the gym I glance over and see awesomeGirl on the Lateral Crusher (I've decided to make up horrific names for machines that I don't know the names of in hopes of making you understand that exercise is a serious business! And maybe increasing my readership some...). Should I make my blog a tabloid? My trainer has suggested a soap opera.

Hmmm....

newGirl walks into the gym pointing a forty-five at Bill who's slowly dying on the Stair Climber. In a thin, lobotomized voice she calls out, "He put me in an... institution!"

"Because I LOVE YA BABY!!!"

BAM BAM BAM!!!

::cue music::

For These are the Days of Our Thighs...

Could work. I'm not sure I have the legs for it though.

I'm calling out that I have to do intervals, what machine should I use? Grinning evilly awesomeGirl, who's not about to suffer alone suggests the Stair Climber.

Intervals on the stair climber? I don't think so... I start to tell her the tragic tale of my knee watching her eyes glaze over about three words into it. We've all heard tragic knee tales before. Still I'm giving my knee the week off no matter how much it bores awesomeGirl.

I pop in the ear buds vowing no song shall be skipped and go to work. The machine is a little quirky on setting up the intervals. I decide for 8/11, it starts you at 1/8 so I go 6/8 until it hits the first 'hill' and then pop it up to 11.

I then watch awesomeGirl systematically and with the focus of a neurosurgeon destroy her thighs. At one point she comes over to get some water and mouths something. I'm listening to Beck's Loser while rethinking how inspirational that song might be for workout purposes. I pop out an ear bud saying, "I'm sorry?"

She smiles the smile of the self-damned, "I wont be able to walk tomorrow."

That must be her objective. She isn't holding back.

An FNG comes in looking for my trainer, she hasn't arrived yet. On a personal note, just a little shout out to my trainer, "I hope you're OK trainer lady! I hope that you overslept or were stuck in traffic all weird and irritated! Not in some awful accident."

After wrapping up the intervals, I'm yakking with goodMood over by the dumbbells telling him of IronMan's awesome feat yesterday. He's intrigued saying, "I'm gonna have to have him show me tomorrow." I immediately start planning on coming in about fifteen minutes after he shows goodMood, "IronMan would you show me that bicep thing?" Evil grin.

goodMood teaches me the name of another machine called a Preacher's Chair which helps you keep your form while doing curls. I do some of those wondering if my trainer is OK and secretly (because I'm a little, little man!) hoping that I might get out of ABS - which happened.

Have a wondrous day!