Sometimes, my memory is the white rabbit and sometimes it just eludes my black ass. I think I starting going to the gym in November of 2010, but I could be totally wrong. I eventually started going dolo. Then I started driving, yes, I know I was extremely late in the game. Fuck you, don’t judge me. My mother said to me on numerous occasions that I was addicted to it. I’d just laugh, all while knowing she had a point. I was addicted to going, or more so being able to say I go to the gym 4 times a week. I have progressed though. I’m now officially addicted to the burn. I truly understand now, that pleasurable pain that real gym rats speak on. I miss a day now and I feel like a big disappointment, which is crazy considering nobody else on the planet cares about me missing a workout. What’s slightly amusing to me is I don’t even know what my motivation is. I mean, I want to look and feel fit but that’s a given, right? Normally people have other motives…or not. I don’t care. I bask in the sweaty glow of a 60 minute weight session.

…cheefin’ like a mothafuckin seminole

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