ajdos
Friends Remembered
- Sep 8, 2010
- 2,282
- 399
The alarm went off at 6:45, he opened his eyes and looked around. Still the same shithole he went to sleep in, 'too bad' he thought.
He rolled over and turned off the screaming alarm, petted his dog then got out of bed.
Drinking his coffee and planning his day, he realized, today is leg day....fuck.
Leg day....that fateful day that comes around each rotation of bodyparts, that day that frustrated him like his own life as of late.
Twenty three years of hard legs, cardio and a job that had him standing for hours on end, had collapsed his left foots arch.
Some may think 'so what?' feet are funny things, pain starts there, and works its way up into your lower back and hip.
For the last year, each leg workout was a frustrating concoction of pain and losing strength and balance.
Almost like the backslide his life had become for the last year...how coincidental.
As he drove to the gym his foot throbbed, he knew that mornings cardio had not helped, it had been a long work week, and the concrete floor at work had been unforgiving to say the least.
Fucking great...bad enough he had been losing strength with each passing workout, but the pain in his foot was wreaking havoc on his IT band and overcompensating had put lots of stress on the other knee.
He pulled into the gym parking lot, parked, and swiveled out from behind the wheel...as he places his foot on the sidewalk he felt a jolt of pain in the side of his foot "FUCK!!" he yelled out...a passer by looked over, one look of anger and anguishing pain and they quickly looked away and scurried off.
"Fucking foot" he muttered under his breath.
He collected himself and walked inside the gym, and quickly found the squat rack. Age old scratches and nicks in the structure showed themselves as a testament to many peoples struggle against the iron demon.
He himself had punished his legs many times in this very rack.
Now to stretch, he laughed under his breath thinking, yeah this fucking helps, but anything to ease the tightness in his legs.
After about 10 minutes of stretching he looked around for 'his' bar...the owner had made him agree long ago, he was only allowed to squat with this bar, thus not ruining the other bars for other gym members.
Then he found it, not unlike any of the other forty five pound bars, but each ends hex bolt marked with white out....and a noticeable bend in the bar itself...slightly off center.
Now he loaded on single plate on each side...135 warm up.
He got under the bar, stepped back and started to descend....fuck! This fucking shit is all ready hurting with 135??!!
He ground out 10 reps and thought 'no fucking way!!!'.
The frustration started to build, he thought maybe once I get warm it will loosen up.
Now 225 was on the bar, again, pain, again disbelief.
Again the thought, ok maybe it will just take a couple more sets and Ill be ok. He took a good couple swallows off his water jug and proceeded back under the bar, he looked in the mirror, he was starting to sweat and he looked like a beaten man all ready.
He began his descent now pain felt better, but the weight felt like a ton! 315 are you fucking serious??!! This used to be a fuckin playtoy!
After 10 reps he racked it, then sat on a bench to catch his breath....he stared up at the weight, thinking 'is this how it begins? Is this when I lose it?'.
Taking a deep breath he got up and loaded another 45 on each side...405. For him this weight had been the gateway weight, somewhat heavy but not enough to put lots of energy into, just enough to feel and get ready for the next weight and the first working set.
The music played and came to the point where he could get his good explosion, he lifted the weight off the rack and thought 'fuck this is fucking heavy!'
His first few reps were good, but his balance was shaky, 2 more reps were ok, then the 6th and 7th were horrible barely able to complete an 8th.
The frustration was building inside of him like a coal ember burning in his stomach, this is bullshit.
Again he sat on the bench contemplating his workout so far, embarrassing would be the word to best describe this horseshit.
His frustration turning to angst, his thoughts becoming more adversarial in nature, he stared hard at the bar now holding 5 plates on each side, 495, this used to be an easy 10 reps.
Gotta get 6 he thought, six isn’t bad. Need a good song, he went through his playlist, aha that’s the one, now he settled under the bar, he breathed hard through his nose, like a bull digging up the ground waiting for the matador.
He growled to himself, 'do this shit!' pushed his traps hard into the bar, pushed up and stepped back with a growl of 'yuuuuppp!!!'
The first rep was hard, his face was beat red, and his lower back was straining, the second rep he lost his balance for a moment but regained it as he came back up...re-gripping the bar, he inhaled and descended again, like a man trying not to drown....as he came up for a 3rd time his foot, shot out in pain as though 100 hypodermic needles were puncturing its side, 'FUCK!" he yelled, as the 4th rep came up, he had to rack this weight.
"WHAT THE FUCK! WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS PUSSY ASS BULLSHIT!!" he yelled, the few people within ear shot looked at him like he was a madman.
All the frustration of his life, his shit job, his legal problems, his shitty ex wife, a life time of disappointments his everything, the weight of his life that pressed down on his shoulders like a bar that he carried around everyday came to the forefront of his mind.
This had been the ONE fucking thing, that had brought him satisfaction, the feeling of being something, someone who could do something that others could not, he may not have the success others have had, but here…in this world, in his hell, he was someone, and he would be damned if he would let his demons steal away the one fucking thing that had held his life together…NO FUCKING WAY!
"FUCK THIS FUCKING BULLSHIT, FUCK THIS JANE FONDA FUCKING WORKOUT WEIGHT HORSESHIT!!! I AM NOT GOING OUT LIKE SOME FUCKING PUSSY TODAY!"
People started to collect their belongings and move away from that particular area of the gym, he noticed, thought they may even complain, oh well, the owner was his friend, he would apologize later....for now it was him and his bitch.
He sat down on the bench and pulled his gymbag closer he dug around, in it, then pulled out a roll of grey duct tape. Now usually the duct tape was for taping small plates to the end of dumbells for added weight, but today it would have a different application.
He pulled off his left shoe, pulled out his orthodic insert for his foot, then taking strips of tape built up the worn down support of the orthodic, then put it back in the shoe and the shoe back on his foot...getting up he placed pressure on his foots side, pain, but manageable pain.
Then he added another 45 lb plate to each side, slamming them home like the doors of a prison cell slamming shut behind him.
He tightened his belt one extra notch, looked at the weight, placed his hands on the knurls then stared into the mirror.
Looking back at him two acid green eyes, bloodshot with years of hell. They felt ablaze as if blood may come tearing out at any moment, an un-breaking glare on his face. His heart was pounding a mixture of fear and hate through his veins.
He thought to himself how fucking tired he was of his life kicking his ass, how tired he was of shitty people, how sick he was of people who had it good but kept others down, and all the failures and frustrations of his life honed to one point like a needle in the back of his head.
His song played Fear Factory, Replica the lyrics saying "I have rape, I have hate....I HAVE RAAPPE, I HAAAVE HHAAAAATTTEE!!" at that moment every fiber of his body surged up as if to break the bar itsef, the weight heaved then settled shaking around on the ends of the bar.
His face beat red with the weight bearing down on his soul, he stepped back one step and his leg shook and his foot cried out in agony, then he stepped the other leg back, almost buckling as he planted it underneath him.
Standing there in front of the mirror his body hunched with the weight grinding into his back, he took a deep breath and said 'fuck this shit, your my BITCH!!" then descended slowly down shaking as he did into a paralell position...the songs lyrics saying 'spare me from the...life full of agony' as he exploded back up his knee pinched and he thought, this isn’t about playin it safe, this is about proving I still can do this ONE THING!
Then again he descended into his personal hell, pushing forward and up again like a rusty, oil soaked piston, and again like some old machine coming to life, breaking the rusty bonds that had held it silent for so long.
He rolled over and turned off the screaming alarm, petted his dog then got out of bed.
Drinking his coffee and planning his day, he realized, today is leg day....fuck.
Leg day....that fateful day that comes around each rotation of bodyparts, that day that frustrated him like his own life as of late.
Twenty three years of hard legs, cardio and a job that had him standing for hours on end, had collapsed his left foots arch.
Some may think 'so what?' feet are funny things, pain starts there, and works its way up into your lower back and hip.
For the last year, each leg workout was a frustrating concoction of pain and losing strength and balance.
Almost like the backslide his life had become for the last year...how coincidental.
As he drove to the gym his foot throbbed, he knew that mornings cardio had not helped, it had been a long work week, and the concrete floor at work had been unforgiving to say the least.
Fucking great...bad enough he had been losing strength with each passing workout, but the pain in his foot was wreaking havoc on his IT band and overcompensating had put lots of stress on the other knee.
He pulled into the gym parking lot, parked, and swiveled out from behind the wheel...as he places his foot on the sidewalk he felt a jolt of pain in the side of his foot "FUCK!!" he yelled out...a passer by looked over, one look of anger and anguishing pain and they quickly looked away and scurried off.
"Fucking foot" he muttered under his breath.
He collected himself and walked inside the gym, and quickly found the squat rack. Age old scratches and nicks in the structure showed themselves as a testament to many peoples struggle against the iron demon.
He himself had punished his legs many times in this very rack.
Now to stretch, he laughed under his breath thinking, yeah this fucking helps, but anything to ease the tightness in his legs.
After about 10 minutes of stretching he looked around for 'his' bar...the owner had made him agree long ago, he was only allowed to squat with this bar, thus not ruining the other bars for other gym members.
Then he found it, not unlike any of the other forty five pound bars, but each ends hex bolt marked with white out....and a noticeable bend in the bar itself...slightly off center.
Now he loaded on single plate on each side...135 warm up.
He got under the bar, stepped back and started to descend....fuck! This fucking shit is all ready hurting with 135??!!
He ground out 10 reps and thought 'no fucking way!!!'.
The frustration started to build, he thought maybe once I get warm it will loosen up.
Now 225 was on the bar, again, pain, again disbelief.
Again the thought, ok maybe it will just take a couple more sets and Ill be ok. He took a good couple swallows off his water jug and proceeded back under the bar, he looked in the mirror, he was starting to sweat and he looked like a beaten man all ready.
He began his descent now pain felt better, but the weight felt like a ton! 315 are you fucking serious??!! This used to be a fuckin playtoy!
After 10 reps he racked it, then sat on a bench to catch his breath....he stared up at the weight, thinking 'is this how it begins? Is this when I lose it?'.
Taking a deep breath he got up and loaded another 45 on each side...405. For him this weight had been the gateway weight, somewhat heavy but not enough to put lots of energy into, just enough to feel and get ready for the next weight and the first working set.
The music played and came to the point where he could get his good explosion, he lifted the weight off the rack and thought 'fuck this is fucking heavy!'
His first few reps were good, but his balance was shaky, 2 more reps were ok, then the 6th and 7th were horrible barely able to complete an 8th.
The frustration was building inside of him like a coal ember burning in his stomach, this is bullshit.
Again he sat on the bench contemplating his workout so far, embarrassing would be the word to best describe this horseshit.
His frustration turning to angst, his thoughts becoming more adversarial in nature, he stared hard at the bar now holding 5 plates on each side, 495, this used to be an easy 10 reps.
Gotta get 6 he thought, six isn’t bad. Need a good song, he went through his playlist, aha that’s the one, now he settled under the bar, he breathed hard through his nose, like a bull digging up the ground waiting for the matador.
He growled to himself, 'do this shit!' pushed his traps hard into the bar, pushed up and stepped back with a growl of 'yuuuuppp!!!'
The first rep was hard, his face was beat red, and his lower back was straining, the second rep he lost his balance for a moment but regained it as he came back up...re-gripping the bar, he inhaled and descended again, like a man trying not to drown....as he came up for a 3rd time his foot, shot out in pain as though 100 hypodermic needles were puncturing its side, 'FUCK!" he yelled, as the 4th rep came up, he had to rack this weight.
"WHAT THE FUCK! WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS PUSSY ASS BULLSHIT!!" he yelled, the few people within ear shot looked at him like he was a madman.
All the frustration of his life, his shit job, his legal problems, his shitty ex wife, a life time of disappointments his everything, the weight of his life that pressed down on his shoulders like a bar that he carried around everyday came to the forefront of his mind.
This had been the ONE fucking thing, that had brought him satisfaction, the feeling of being something, someone who could do something that others could not, he may not have the success others have had, but here…in this world, in his hell, he was someone, and he would be damned if he would let his demons steal away the one fucking thing that had held his life together…NO FUCKING WAY!
"FUCK THIS FUCKING BULLSHIT, FUCK THIS JANE FONDA FUCKING WORKOUT WEIGHT HORSESHIT!!! I AM NOT GOING OUT LIKE SOME FUCKING PUSSY TODAY!"
People started to collect their belongings and move away from that particular area of the gym, he noticed, thought they may even complain, oh well, the owner was his friend, he would apologize later....for now it was him and his bitch.
He sat down on the bench and pulled his gymbag closer he dug around, in it, then pulled out a roll of grey duct tape. Now usually the duct tape was for taping small plates to the end of dumbells for added weight, but today it would have a different application.
He pulled off his left shoe, pulled out his orthodic insert for his foot, then taking strips of tape built up the worn down support of the orthodic, then put it back in the shoe and the shoe back on his foot...getting up he placed pressure on his foots side, pain, but manageable pain.
Then he added another 45 lb plate to each side, slamming them home like the doors of a prison cell slamming shut behind him.
He tightened his belt one extra notch, looked at the weight, placed his hands on the knurls then stared into the mirror.
Looking back at him two acid green eyes, bloodshot with years of hell. They felt ablaze as if blood may come tearing out at any moment, an un-breaking glare on his face. His heart was pounding a mixture of fear and hate through his veins.
He thought to himself how fucking tired he was of his life kicking his ass, how tired he was of shitty people, how sick he was of people who had it good but kept others down, and all the failures and frustrations of his life honed to one point like a needle in the back of his head.
His song played Fear Factory, Replica the lyrics saying "I have rape, I have hate....I HAVE RAAPPE, I HAAAVE HHAAAAATTTEE!!" at that moment every fiber of his body surged up as if to break the bar itsef, the weight heaved then settled shaking around on the ends of the bar.
His face beat red with the weight bearing down on his soul, he stepped back one step and his leg shook and his foot cried out in agony, then he stepped the other leg back, almost buckling as he planted it underneath him.
Standing there in front of the mirror his body hunched with the weight grinding into his back, he took a deep breath and said 'fuck this shit, your my BITCH!!" then descended slowly down shaking as he did into a paralell position...the songs lyrics saying 'spare me from the...life full of agony' as he exploded back up his knee pinched and he thought, this isn’t about playin it safe, this is about proving I still can do this ONE THING!
Then again he descended into his personal hell, pushing forward and up again like a rusty, oil soaked piston, and again like some old machine coming to life, breaking the rusty bonds that had held it silent for so long.
