The Last Workout
In a couple hours, the sun will be up and the world will start buzzing. But for now, it’s still dark outside and fucking cold. The gym is still empty, silent. I’m alone. I’ve got another set to do. I grip the bar, feel the cold iron in my hands. It’s familiar, yet strange. How many times have I been under this weight, looked up, and tried to push the weight through the ceiling? I couldn’t begin to count. But every time I feel the steel, I tell myself it’s the first time—and the last. Never take anything for granted. Not a single rep. Not a single meal. That’s what has kept me from getting stuck in a rut. What’ll keep me fucking going for the next 18 weeks? It’s a date circled in red. Soon, when I’m done here, I’ll punch out and head on home. Is bodybuilding a job? Fuck yeah. The toughest in the world. And the gym is my office. When I get home, I’m not done for the day. Far from it. Shit, bodybuilding is a job, but it’s much more than that. Bodybuilding… This is my life…
So I take a deep breath… I look up and brace myself for what comes next.
