I just wrapped up another contract so I've about 2 weeks off before I start my next gig. I joined a gym and just had my first cycling (spinning) class today ever. 60 minutes of pure torture. 30 minutes into it, I was thinking how to best escape the torture. Who would I have to bribe? How can I make everyone in class go temporarily blind as I skulk my way out of there? Yes, it kicked my ***. Yes, I wanted to kill the idiots who were being "motivating" by cheering us on in our imaginary ride in the country on flat roads and hills. Damn them. Damn them all to hell!
Somehow, though, I made my way through the whole session and emerged sweaty and triumphant (well, I didn't outright collapse amidst my own fecal matter and urine). The legs, they burn and feel tons heavier. The stairs, she is my bitter, bitter enemy.
Note to self: idiot, buy some nice cushioned bicycle pants for future sessions. The little seat was probably more torture (i.e., **** raping) than the actual cycling itself.
And now, I go to lie down upstairs (damn you, stairs!). I may or may not be posting anytime soon, as that depends on the will of my legs to actually move from my bedroom back downstairs to the office - the stairs, the stairs...
Salvation, thy name is Advil...