I went in for the bro hug.
Bro was like: Damn. Your pecs are firm.
Hey now… you noticed?
I’ve been doing a shit ton of pushups and it’s showing. I thought I saw something in the mirror this week, but that felt vain.
Sorry. No shirtless mirror pic. Yet.
I’ve been working out consistently since 2013. I negotiated a barter deal with my first personal trainer, Jim. Before Jimbo, it was mostly wishful thinking. He was the reason that it became a ritual for me and had me looking and feeling the best of my life. I wasn’t just a flaco anymore. I was a little more. I saw myself differently.
I kept it going on my own for the next 12 years. Actually used my gym membership. I know. The nerve.
Last year I canceled it. Stopped tracking every workout too. Maybe not ideal, but the tracking had become the whole thing. The actual work was secondary.
So I shifted. Started focusing on flexibility, full body range of motion.
This year, more bodyweight and calisthenics. Pushups, pullups, squats, splits, exercises that build strength in the smallest muscles in my body. Not just chest and biceps.
(Sorry it took me so long to listen to you Christopher. He’s been preaching this to me for years)
You’d think that means no muscle gains. Wrong. Ask bro.
More growth, much more definition. Without the noise, the grime, or the monthly fee and terrible service. Now there’s something that just launches in me every day. Less like discipline, more like a game. How much can I keep growing? How much functional strength can I develop? Can I return to child-like flexibility? Not sure, but I’m gonna keep playing.
Now, I look in the mirror and think… I’d tap that.
I’m sooooo vain.
Then I walk over to Carla and she looks at me with those lusty eyes. 👀
Hot damn.
Game over.
Marry me.
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