I’m extremely, extremely sore.
I’ve been walkin’ slow everywhere.
I keep rubbin’ my thighs, my hamstrings, my ankles.
Why – do I hurt?
Mother flippin’ deadlifts has me feelin’ like I fought a couple swordsman gorillas last night. It’s serious – really serious.
Now, even though I’m currently on my bed – ‘fraid to move – I’m really, really grateful for this soreness. It’s one of my favorite feelings ever.
It’s pretty darn addictin’.
Cause yesterday – when I was doin’ deadlifts – I knew it would leave me feelin’ like this later, but ya boy did it.
I’m addicted to the pain. To the soreness.
I don’t do drugs, so deadlifts are the only thing I’m addicted to.
I see people in the gym, not doin’ much.
Doin’ light cardio. And leavin’.
Doin’ a couple machines. And leavin’.
Takin’ breaks on the phone. Wastin’ time.
Talkin’ to friends.
Their not addicted. Not like me.
I’m focused. This is my art. My passion.
Like how Trump likes makin’ deals. It’s how he gets his kicks.
I like liftin’. It’s how I get my kicks.
Ever since I was 13, fitness was my thing.
I remember bein’ in my room watchin’ old martial art movies. Copyin’ their moves.
Hittin’ push ups. Sit ups. Planks.
Punchin’ body bags. All that stuff.
Now, 11 years later, I’m older, balder, bearder, and liftin’ up heavy barbells for high reps. And extremely sore – in slight pain.
But – you know what?
I wouldn’t change it for the world.
I really, really love tastin’ the pain.