So, before we begin, go refresh your pretty little memories of the epic blog entry below.
Ok. Was that fun? Are you ready to see where this goes?
It’s Upper Body Murder day, and Franz has me starting on the rowing machine doing 500 meters, immediately making fun of me for going too slow (I do 500 meters in about 2.5 minutes..), and telling me all about how HARD the following work out will be. You could literally see the look of pure evil and joy in his eyes.
The work out started out pretty normally. Heavy weight, me complaining, Franz rolling his eyes. All very normal.
Normal, until he told me to come over to him. He was standing under the dreaded bar. The pull up bar. I groaned. I said, out loud, ‘You seriously must be on crack if you think I’m going to do this. Do you remember what happened the last time? Remember the heart attack I gave you? DO YOU WANT THAT TO HAPPEN AGAIN?!‘ The only other woman in the gym audibly laughed. I am obviously spreading joy everywhere I go.
I begrudgingly walked over to him, and he was holding this massive rubber band loop that was attached to the bar above.
‘Put your foot in this’, he said.
I lift my leg, and put my foot into the band. He lets go and my leg immediately shoots out in front of me, 90 degrees. I start dying laughing. Franz hates me.
‘Put your foot down and keep your feet together’, he ordered.
I follow the instructions.
‘Now… pull yourself up.’, he said, like the delusional man he is.
I do. I pull myself up. The band allowed me some assistance on the way up, and some control on the way down. Wait- it was supposed to control me on the way down, but we all know how awkward and fucked up I am. I go down, and my legs go all wobbly and swing out in front of me. This doesn’t happen once, or twice… it happens literally every time I try to go down. Franz is getting annoyed. I’m laughing, but I have officially done 10 chin-ups.
I will say, between the tears in my eyes from laughing, and the core strength to keep my legs controlled, I was kind of proud of myself. Well, like half proud. You may be questioning why I was only half proud of myself. Well, in my head, the band is a crutch. This is a fake way to do chin-ups. It has to be. When I say this to Franz, he rolls his eyes, and tells me it’s not cheating, and points out the fact that I have now done 20 chin-ups.
BTW- In between each set, I had to do bench presses with 25 pound weights in each hand. When I was done, I had to get that damn foot back into that damn rubber band…without accidentally kicking Franz in the damn face.
Each set of chin-ups I did, looked ridiculous. I was constantly swearing under my breath, and my shirt was getting caught on the band, and E.T. was popping out. It may or may not have been the most attractive thing I have ever had the pleasure of watching in the gym mirror. Poor Franz had a front row seat to this shit show.
Below is a picture of what this exercise could look like, IF I was a normal person. Thank God there isn’t an actual image of me attempting it.
P.S. In the end, I managed a total of 30 chin-ups. We’ve come a l-o-n-g way, friends.