Tribe, I have a confession to make: I am already sore from this morning’s workout.
And I only did about 65% of it.
It’s this pain that runs from my low back up to my upper traps, down my arms to the backs of my legs. And it feels incredible. I hope I am not alone in this. I hope that right now you are on the MUNI reading this blog post, next to the guy with the oversized backpack who every single morning turns quickly and knocks you over unapologetically like a fucking wrecking ball, sans Miley Cyrus. That guy doesn’t have burning calf muscles from the last hill climb of the ‘chaos lap.’ That guy doesn’t even know what a ‘chaos lap’ is. Well, maybe he thinks he does, but his definition consists of the TL on a Thursday night, Walt White, and a wad of cash. Can you actually ask him what he thinks a chaos lap is? Don’t worry, we’ll wait.
Maybe you’re already at work. And your desk is next to that skinny girl who every time you enthusiastically invite her to NP she says “That’s so early, you’re crazy. Maybe if it was 6:30 at night. But even so, probably not. (giggle) Wanna go on a SBucks run with me?” I hope your ass is insanely sore while you sit and chat with her this morning. And when you get up to go get those skinny vanilla lattes you notice that your butt sits a solid 2 inches higher than hers. Because you work hard for yours. And it’s a mother f’ing shelf because of it.
I hope you are all sore this morning. Because this pain is a reminder of the hard work you all put in today before the sun even came up. You made the conscious decision to better your bodies, clear your minds, and embrace the community you live in. Enjoy the discomfort, you deserve it.
FRIDAY: Lombard and Jones. Wear all black. Remove your vocal cords. NINJA TIME. 6:24 AM.
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