On numerous occasions (FINE! Every time..) at the end of training sessions, I am so exhausted by the end, that I dramatically collapse on the VERY CLEAN AND OBVIOUSLY VERY COMFORTABLE floor of the gym. Franz hates this. First of all, I think (I know) it embarrasses him. I just literally spaghetti legs straight to the floor… I guess it could be somewhat embarrassing for a trainer, but whatever. Secondly, he’s grossed out that I have no problem laying on the floor, and normally, I would probably be grossed out too. I mean, let’s be honest, they can clean that place all they want (and to their credit, they do keep it clean!), but it’s still a gym. Dirty sneakers, sweat, spit… it’s inevitable that it’s everywhere, and on everything. Gyms are gross.
Anyways, Franz is so used to seeing me collapse into a pile of death, that he doesn’t even say anything any more. Instead, he let’s me lay there for a few minutes, heaving… usually mumbling some inaudible words, and then typically closing my eyes and wishing I was in pajamas. At the end of my pity party, Franz will normally chivalrously extend his hand to me, and seamlessly pull me up to my feet, as if I am a rag doll.
So let me set the scene for you from last weeks ‘Lower Body Murder Day’. Franz had basically made me do 2,762,046 squats, and 9,613,763 dead lifts. No, I’m not exagerating. My body was sore and weak, and my legs were jelly. My mouth, however…. worked perfectly fine (between the heaving breaths). As we walked over to ‘the green’, to where the death sled was sitting, I opened my unfiltered dumb mouth, and said, ‘Ugh!! Can’t you think of ANYTHING else for me to do?! All you ever have me do are squats and pushing the fucking sled!! What do I pay you for?!’
Now, let me be clear. I know what I pay him for. He knows that I’m kidding when I say that shit. I throw that specific comment out there on the regular, because I know how dumb he thinks I am when I say it, and it makes me laugh, inside. Also, don’t you worry, because in turn, Franz has plenty of things he says that ‘get back at me’, for what I say to him. It’s a very healthy, dysfunctional relationship.
Anyways, I mention my kind words of wisdom, and he responds by pulling a TRX rope from it’s home on the wall, tying it around the sled, and says ‘Of course I can think of new things for you to do!! Today, you’re going to pull the sled… backwards. And yes, I’ll be standing on it’.
I literally almost died on the spot. I mean, part of me was like, ok, going backwards won’t be that bad. I can do this. My legs are strong, and I can handle pushing this man-beast while he takes a free ride across the gym. As I reluctantly get into position to pull, my body reminds me just how weak I am at the moment. I am so tired, and now I have to pull this meat head and a steel machine, down ‘the green’ and back again.
I start to pull on the handles at the end of the rope, and get some momentum. By momentum, I mean, we were moving- but very, very slowly. As I pulled backwards, my toes jammed into the front of my sneakers, my legs shook, my breath was severely shortened, and I complained- The. Whole. Time.
I got to the end of ‘the green’, and bent over, hands on knees, trying desperately to catch my breath. For once in Franz’s life, he took my complaining seriously, and told me I didn’t have to pull the sled back, that this time, I could just push it. Awe… so sweet. I can just push it now…’.
Again, I get myself into position, take a deep breath, give myself a pep talk, and start to push. I’ll fast forward to when I got to the other end of the gym, and Franz hopped off of his throne atop the sled, and I collapsed to the floor. Like usual, he allowed me to lay there for a moment, and suffer. Then, Franz reaches his hand down towards me, and says so sweetly, ‘Would you take my hand….in training’
Then, without skipping a beat, as he lifted me from my death bed, he followed up his own proposal with, ‘I thought you’d never ask’.
I’ve never been more in… love?