It begins even before I start to lift any weight. As the arginine causes nitric oxide to begin dilating my blood vessels and the creatine and amino acids I ingest beforehand start to make it's way into saturating the muscle cells, my core body temperature rises; it begins.
Between shutting my car door and walking the 3 or so sets of stairs to my haven of hell, all I can think of is how much pain I will be in and how much I will enjoy every second of it. The door closes behind me after the distinguished beep of my card swiping across the scanner. People naturally stare at whom has entered but I am not fazed as a quick click of my ipod sends rumbles of drum and bass to my ears, my silence.
No time is wasted, but the 5 or so minutes of moderate incline walking to warm up seems to pass by in an instant. A quick piss and I am already in front of myself, holding the weights to start my first set.
Here we go.
Rep after rep, set after set, exercise after exercise; and I'm only at front lifts. The drop sets on the beginning militaries absolutely wrecked and thoughts of completing this session begin to dim. The pain becomes unbearable by the second set of lifts but knowing that success only lies in reps past failure, I push on. 11, 12, one more, are the last things recovered from the previous set and it's time to finish. The twelve sets of militaries, and front lifts with varying grips prepare me for the second half of deltoids exercises. If this was pain, I didn't want to imagine what would come next.
A superset of lateral lifts and rack shrugs was about to put me on my arse. As the fuckwits behind me are laughing and throwing medicine balls are each other, my vision is tunneled; I'm surprised I actually noticed them. The set gets heavy and as I hesitate to go heavier for the next set, it still gets done. The third set sends me into hyperventilation but the torture is nearly over. It's a drop set on the last weight on the stack, and rack shrugs to failure. It's over, well, it's downhill from now anyway.
The bar militaries and reverse delt flies go by undisturbed and without too much drama. The slight pump in the biceps from the laterals end the weights on cable curls and off to the treadmill to warm down. I restart my playlist and it begins again. With lactic acid still present there's still lasting pain until 10 or so minutes have passed. A moderate incline walk on 5 speed saturates my already wet shirt and the halo of heat and stench which radiates from me makes me think what other people think and how much I didn't care. To get by every minute, I occupy my mind with quotes of those whom have succeeded. I think of how they got there and how I will make my own way there. 35 minutes later and my session is over.
Standing cold and clotheless in a freezing shower, I only think of what I can do better next time. 'I'll vary my grip for an extra set of lifts and increase my cardio another 5 minutes next session'. With a protein shake in hand- extra dextrose for nutrient delivery, I walk down the 3 sets of stairs after a distinguished beep of the door closing behind me and sit down in my car after closing it.
This is my life now. Am I obsessed; probably, but success stems from obsession
I will succeed.
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