0600

Back, Biceps, five pounds more per exercise, whatever it takes.

0615

So much sweat pouring off of me. Floor is slick. Can’t see. Can hardly catch breath. Muscles screaming. Must … keep … going. I think of Freddy Care, screaming at me, laughing at me, mocking the kind of pathetic example I am. I am weak. I am old. I quit too easily. I’m nothing. I roar defiantly and push forward. Continue reading →