I’m so excited to workout! Oh man, it’s been one of those weeks. Baby isn’t sleeping. Kids are farting around and crying about the smell. Marriage game is strong, but it’s hard to be power lifting when your tiniest human cries 4-162 times each night. I felt like I’ve been constantly running around. And I hate running.
I need the weekend. Even if the weekend just means I work all day without actually being at Work all day. Maybe I’ll steal a nap. Or maybe I’ll cry while watching Brene Brown. Either way, at least I can complain but still workout at a decent hour.
Today, I’m working out at my Work office. It’s pretty nice in here; clean, plenty of dumbbells + a treadmill, and usually not busy. I don’t mind working with most of the people at my job, but I don’t want them to see me sweaty. I’m gross enough during the day, let’s keep the sweat to myself.
Have I said I’m excited? As long as this week’s workout doesn’t feature burpees or running, I’m good.
I just jinxed myself.
“Running In Place (RIP)”
5 rounds, each round for time, of:
Run, 200 m
10 Alternating Dumbbell Power Snatches | 25 lbs
New Round Starts Every 2:30
I’m using 25 lb dumbbells and a treadmill. I hate running on a treadmill. It’s ugly outside, I’m still getting over a cold, so I can’t do this outdoors. The name of the program is Outside the Box, but I’m going to stay inside the building.
3… 2… 1… Wait!
I should probably explain myself for a moment. You, dear reader, have met a lot of people in your life. You’ve had friends, enemies, and strangers who you’ve ignored. I’m willing to bet my entire life that I’m faster than 99% of them. Or, I WAS faster. Back before the Dadbod life. And only at a short distance. Like, 40 yards. I’m explosive. I run like I’m late for dinner.
Do you know what means when I’m running 200 meters? Nothing. 200 meters is enough to burn the lungs and discourage my soul. In High School, I once cried during a 400 meter race in the middle of a football practice. (sidebar: I cry a lot)
Honestly, I workout like I’m hopped up on caffeine: I start on fire, and then I crash on fire.
I don’t like to run. Unless someone is chasing me, I don’t want to do it. Even worse, I’m going to do this thing on a treadmill? Maybe I’ll call in sick this week. My lungs are still sore from the coughing. There’s no harm in skipping, is there? (If you’re skipping out of fear, then yes – it’s harmful). I struggle with distance running because I get distracted and start to lose my mind midway through the workout. My body starts to assume something is wrong, so it tries to fire off warning signs: Go to the bathroom! You’re hungry! Check your phone!
That’s just in the first 200 meters.
Let’s all run in place, shall we?
3… 2… 1… Go!
Round 1: The warm up has given my legs the necessary confidence to move forward. I moving fast, even if I’m not moving at all. How far along am I? .05 miles. I hate running.
The treadmill doesn’t read in meters. It reads in miles. So… how many miles are in 200 meters? Is it .05? Maybe I can go with .06 just for safety.
400 meters is .25, half of that is .125. I’ll do .13 for 3 rounds and .12 for two rounds.
The run finishes at decent time and I smoke through the snatches. Not much to note about the second movement. I’m not too tired to be efficient and use the break.
Finished Round: 1:34 (56 seconds of rest)
Yes, already. I hate running.
Finished Round: 1:49
Round 3: I’m so tired and so embarrassed. I don’t know if I’m moving fast or if I’ve suddenly become the slowest man alive. An elderly woman comes in to the gym and starts speed walking beside me. I’m pretty sure my sweat is flying in her direction.
This is how I feel, might not be how I look, but this gentleman is my spirit animal. The whole way down to the short shorts. If I wasn’t built like hairy Homer Simpson, I would rock them.
Again, every time I start to feel bad for myself, I get to the snatches and feel like a man again. Sure, the weight is only 25 lbs, but at least it’s light.
Finished Round: 1:42
Round 4: I’m over this workout. I don’t want to run anymore, but I ain’t going to quit. That just means I need to pick up the speed from 7.0 to 8.0. Let’s do this!
Okay, maybe that was a bad decision. I can feel my whole life flashing. My legs are a little wobbly, I’m gonna fall, I’m gonna fall… NOOOOO.
This didn’t actually happen, but we were close. I could feel myself going down. I looked the night king in his eyes.
And then again, I turn off the treadmill to move to snatches. I forget that I need to wait for the track to stop spinning before I stand on it again. The belt pulls, my balance fails, my hands shoot out for the side handles. NOOOO. I hate running.
It wasn’t running fast, but I definitely fell. I think I broke my leg. The elderly woman shrieked at me. I stood fast and laughed it off. I realize she’s wearing sunglasses. Weird. Still, I can feel her look. She’s thinks I’m an idiot.
She’s not wrong.
Still, I can do the snatches.
Finished Round: 1:26
Round 5: I know I should have learned from my mistakes, but I see the light at the end of the tunnel. Figuratively, not literally. I’m one round away from being done and I’m ready to role! I close my eyes (before I start running) and picture something getting ready to chase me. A bear? No, that would be stupid – just play dead bro! A lion? No, it would catch me. Ah, I’m being chased by a 10-year old girl who wants to ramble/tell me a story about a dream she had… for the third time this week. I hate running.
Finished Round: 1:18
Total workout: 7:49
My legs are on fire. My body hurts.
But I’m done.
And I didn’t cry.
Tune in next week for another Dead to Dadbod.
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