Ever since my debacle at the races, I've been diligently hitting the gym, fear and embarrassment replacing misplaced bravado and confidence of yore. nothing fancy just a decent run at a decent speed, followed by a light exercise routine holding it all together. I still can't bring myself to go to the gym and restrict my workout to the cardio machines - the disdain I held for them in youth gets in the way of what should be a fairly simple choice.
I've started to notice fellow gym rats, as i am sure they have me. There's the jockers who truly belong in the gym, the fockers who think they belong in the gym, and the shockers who have no illusions on either. Right now I'm lighting up the rearguard action for the shockers, who are in desperate need of some leadership. We're kind of a brooding bunch - we grudgingly acknowledge one another, never openly sneering at the peacock types, yet all carrying sociopathic tendencies beneath a calm exterior.
Having achieved some modest successes in a sporting life long, long ago I'm not about to settle for bottom of the barrel just because I've gained a few pounds (Editor's Note: it's more like a few stone). Nosirree bob!! And so I hone the focus of the shockers, using eyebrow gestures to bring home the point, since none of us will talk, until each operates with head held high and mission clear ...
... I will have to take this blog up later - the post workout beers have me rocking, and i can see I'm starting to ramble. Cheers (hic)!!
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