Back, Biceps, five pounds more per exercise, whatever it takes.
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.
asd#F JIALea9* kd. EEW2lka_D fuck @#djaleial can’t type *8flaENana!aldp
biceps feel like sausage cooking on a BBQ until splitting open. WWRD? I keep on going!
I lean my back against the shower wall. It’s cold to the touch though the water is blissfully hot. I don’t care. I can’t lift my arms. I can’t feel my biceps. Literally. They’re numb. I’ve never experienced that before. Not sure if it’s a good thing. My back is throbbing from traps to lower, lats, mids and everything in between. Breath is returning slowly.
That was killer. I was the one who killed it.