Caution: Leg Day

Tina Fey has been training my co-workers. On how to manage me when she leaves.

You walk in and she’s crying. What do you do?

Give her food.

She’s smiling. Looks happy. What do you do?

Give her food.

She is existing anywhere near you. What do you do?

Give her food.

We get this, right?

Food is always the answer.

Coffee and beer are also acceptable answers. But food. Always.

Co-Worker B appears to be appropriately trained. He brought a sufficiently full plate of food to me at lunch.

Carlos also appears to be appropriately trained now. It was a rough start. When he showed up at at my door with a half-eaten donut in his hand.

Had to send him away until he came back with a whole one.

And then he spent the rest of the day throwing food at me from the door.

His aim and arm are awful.

But he’s trying. And that’s what matters.

Of course, he’s Carlos. So he also placed this in the entrance of my office.

He’s not wrong, though.

I’m pretty pissy these days.

And weepy.

And forever hungry.

Except enough people keep shoving food at me to stop the crying that I may be good for a while.

That should last me through about Friday.

And every time they shove some new package of chocolate or cookies or candy at me, they say, “It’s fine. You workout.”

Except I haven’t. This week. At all.

And J-Vicious sent his standard where the hell have you been message Sunday night. (I won’t repeat his actual wording here. Because his language is awful… wait. No. That’s me. That’s my language.)

Anyway.

So I messaged Rogue and Fall Risk. Just to ask if either of them were gonna be at PlayFITStayFIT.

Because you never want to be the only one showing up that’s been MIA for a while.

That’s way more attention than even I can handle.

But all I did was ask. And advise that I was leaving work and heading to Roanoke.

And Fall Risk proceeded to spend the next 30 minutes having a conversation. With herself. Talking herself into it. And back out of it. And back into it again.

She showed up.

And when she got kinda pissy upon realizing how awful the workout was gonna be, as though she didn’t already know. As though it isn’t always awful. I reminded her. Of that thing J-Vicious says. That’s so true.

Everyone needs that Sunshine Richards in their life.

Just so really true.

But also. She wasn’t wrong.

Because the workout was basically 45 minutes of nearly nonstop back squats.

Like, increasing numbers every minute.

And he didn’t even have the courtesy to start us at one.

And J-Vicious chose our weights for us.

And he spent the entire time telling me not to let this break me.

But he said it in that threatening way. Like if I did let it break me, he’d just throw some other awfuller mess at me.

Except that also? He did that anyway. I didn’t let it break me. I stayed on track with the back squats for 31 minutes. Counting and everything. And just about the time I was gonna use the last two of the three one-minute breaks he’d allotted us. He forced us out of the back squats and straight into a weighted wall sit for the last 14 minutes.

But he revoked any remaining one minute breaks. During the wall sit.

But I didn’t know! I would’ve used them sooner! Why are you so mean???

And you know what he loves to shove onto my lap for wall sits, right?

Yep. That’s basically a stock photo at this point. No need for a new pic. It looks the same every damn time. Just me. Struggling to maintain as the will to live is draining out of me.

And ain’t no way I’m giving him the satisfaction of just giving up.

And he knows that. So every now and then, he likes to throw another 60 on top of there.

And then stand back and grin.

Because in the midst of all this. This little evil genius is over here friend requesting my people and sending them photos and telling them that I’m running two loops of North Mountain tomorrow.

Dude! Don’t tell people things like that! They’ll believe you!

And of course. Once I got home.

“Hey. I hear you’re running two loops of North Mountain tomorrow. See you out there.”

No.

Just…no.

I’m trying to figure out how I’m gonna manage sitting in a movie theater seat for 2 1/2 hours tomorrow night. Without all of my leg muscles seizing up halfway through.

I swear, if he ruins Star Wars for me, I’m gonna drive back over there and beat him with that punching bag.

As soon as I’m able to work the clutch in my car again.

On the bright side, I no longer have the energy to be pissy. So I may be able to talk Carlos into taking that Caution sign back to wherever it belongs.

But y’all should probably keep bringing food. Just to be safe.