chapter thirteen: super sets world

i had spent the better part of my EJ addiction being too much of a stubborn die-hard to admit that i have absolutely no interest in the bike. i don't have a problem with mountain biking, or road biking even, but i'm just not one of those people who's looking to pack my schedule with some extra one-on-one time with a piece of rubber up my ass.

"gem's you hop up on the bike there and peddle" sniffles said across the gym, while i was trying to disguise the limp i had from that blasted bike seat. i love hearing the words 'jump on the bike' almost as much as i love hearing 'grind it out'. the only time i want to grind it out is at fortune, late night. i wanted to say that i'd rather be forced to watch a starwars marathon and smoke mint cigarettes than to get back on that damn thing. but i haven't had enough therapy at this point to know about creating boundaries, so instead i said, "definitely"

anyone who participated in the 11am EJx super sets saturday today would confirm that sniffles had probably the most thorough demo's i've seen. nearly workout tape worthy. there was a time, i think, that he even considered actually picking up a weight. you know you spend a lot of time at one certain place, that we're all confident in what moves are what. clearly we're doing a rockin job. oh, and the playlist was nearly as good as my gangsta rap. (i did forget my grills yesterday, which would have made my playlist a lot more fitting.) if i could just quote the song that was made surely just for me, 'she had more junk in her trunk than a honda. i know you wanna do the jane fonda.'

note to trainers alike: don't ask girls in booty shorts to do sumo squats. think about it.

after class i went into the change room to clean myself up, unpin my hair from the top of my head, and look for a donut to sit on for the rest of the afternoon. of course, after thirty seconds of looking in all the wrong places i thought i might find a donut (things like the lockers, under the sink, even in the shower) i whipped my shorts across the room (which landed perfectly folded in my bag... amazing) buttoned up my distressed jeans, and i was over it. i grabbed my bag and headed to the door, and was engaged in the same tug-of-war routine that happens every time i try and leave this place. must.... go.... home!

my vow for the next week, which is now going to be called 'vantastic bike-o-rama' is to actually fall in love with the bike. can i do it? you'll have to tune in. maybe even place some bets. i know a really good jar we could use, it's in my bank account. i'll tell you where i'm at right now so we can compare my relationship in one weeks time: bike seats are right up there with something else i find particularly offensive: hairy backs.