The End of a Friendship

You know those mornings where you can’t get out of bed? Literally?

Like, you have to do a couple of practice stands before you can actually force yourself up? And fully out of bed?

My neck/shoulder rigor mortis is back.

It went away after last night’s PlayFITStayFIT workout.

Because J-Vicious worked the hell out of our upper bodies.

When I initially got there, he and LL (who was walking out of the 4 o’clock class) were all giggly and shit. Because they thought I was the only one coming for 5 o’clock.

Like I’d just submit myself to a one on one personal training session with J-V. And not just drive my happy ass for tacos instead.

I do not need his full attention during a workout.

But Fall Risk and the Air Doctor also showed up. So, I stayed. And missed out on tacos.

Tommy Carlos was supposed to come, too. But apparently he scares easy. And doesn’t think he could handle my gym.

Which. Fair enough.

Because what kind of asshole starts an AMRAP workout with burpees and manmakers?

The same kind of asshole that revokes your phone privileges just for getting a drink of water.

You can die without hydration, you know.

“You’ve only been exercising for two minutes.”

I’m thirsty. What.

And apparently this was the workout where we were throwing each under the bus. Because as J-V realized that Fall Risk was switching to lighter bands between high pulls and triceps extensions, Air Doctor was all like, “She’s been doing that the whole time…”

Damn.

Ok.

But also, maybe if you weren’t so focused on keeping me dehydrated or making sure I was using the heavier bands, you would’ve noticed that the first time she did it…

And. Probably I shouldn’t provoke him.

I know this.

But also. What kind of asshole makes you do slam ball push ups and tire push ups right in the middle of an arm workout?

And really. What is the actual purpose of a slam ball push up?

I can do a much easier push up on the floor. Where my arms are stable.

See?

So he sat himself down right there and kept shoving that dumbass slam ball right under my face.

Fuck.

And I thought maybe we’d stopped driving that bus around.

But when we were picking weights for the chest presses, biceps curls, and front raises. And I picked up a perfectly respectable weight.

Fucking Fall Risk points out that she’s got a 25. So I should at least have the same weight.

So J-V gets me a 27.

No that’s cool. This friendship is pretty old anyway. Maybe it’s time I find some new ones.

Fuck.

I mean, the chest presses were manageable. And the biceps curls were ok. But front raises?

Look. My arms are the one part of my body that I really love. They actually look pretty strong. But I’m not even exaggerating when I tell you those muscles are all for show.

They don’t actually work.

They are not actually capable of lifting 27 pounds up in front of me.

And I’m ok with this.

I think I’ve left my fighting days back in my youth.

So, my coping skill. When I’m really struggling during a workout. And when J-V actually picks decent music. Is to sing. Or rap. Whichever.

And, I mean, when Lauren Hill is on. I mean, you can’t not sing along. Right?

So this dude starts threatening to switch it to Taylor Swift. And I had an involuntary reaction to that. And Fall Risk got offended.

Bitch, you’re the reason I’m not gonna be able to use my arms tomorrow. Back up.

And eventually he let me use a lighter weight. If I promised to do more than one rep at a time. And stop singing.

“Do them like Fall Risk does.”

“Yeah. Do them five at a time.”

Ima need both of y’all to just shut up.

So by the time we hit the last five minute ab work. Fall Risk and I were no longer friends.

And as I struggled to sit up and grab my weight off the bench. I pointed out that I did a 23 minute ab workout that morning. So I should really be excused from this.

“All that tells me is it wasn’t a very good workout. If you could get through 23 minutes of that. But you’re already whining one minute into this.”

And maybe I was singing a little more than I was sitting up.

But damn if that mother fucker didn’t push a button. And next thing I hear is “Bandaids don’t fix billet holes…”

Which actually was rather fitting.

So I started singing to Fall Risk.

It was very symbolic. And shit.

End of class and I ask for my phone back. Please.

And J-V acts like he doesn’t know what I’m talking about.

“He probably has one of those boxes teachers use for confiscated items.”

Oh, now you wanna be helpful, Fall Risk?

It’s cool. J-V doesn’t wanna give me back my phone? I’ll just take one of his Jeep doors. They were just sitting right there.

Except I also couldn’t lift anything at that point.

But it’s fine.

In the end, Fall Risk got my phone back. And we rekindled our friendship.

Maybe this has even brought us closer.

Probably not close enough to commit to Friday night class.

Because Friday night is date night.

So I’ll be over here reading my books.

And trying to workout my rigor mortis. And getting my legs to straighten again. And figuring out how to make my arms hold shit.

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