It's late. The alarm will sound early. I love the gym.
My legs and ass hurt. The good hurt, the sort that says, "Oh yeah, I did something good for myself" and also "holy lord how in the fuck will I ever get my ass all the way down there on the toilet seat without dying?!"
You know what I mean. If you don't, go do 36 squats and 36 lunges and report back in 24 hours. Or just stab yourself in the upper thigh and ass cheeks. Whichever.
But I'm going to go back tomorrow. And Wednesday. Thursday, Friday, Saturday...it's like I'm daring myself to see what will happen if I actually stick to this.
Well, this week. Today. It is only Monday, after all. I would've skipped this morning if it weren't for the fact that Melinda was meeting me there at 5 a.m. Not like I can stand her up, you know?
I soaked in Epsom salts and now the stabbing isn't quite so awful. And for the record, I really don't mind it...I just have a hard time controlling the grunts and groans that associate any squat-like movements.
But I'm totally fine.
I'll do it again tomorrow.
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Please don't make me cry.