Skinny Boy ✔

Chapter 33: another day, another gym

When I first walked into the new gym, there were a few differences I noticed between this one and the last. The first was its size. I noticed right away that it was a lot smaller than the other larger, more corporate and nationwide company. This one was local, and gave that local feeling through its smaller size. I think it used to be a mechanic shop. I don't know for sure, but I think the oil stains and tires scuff marks on the concrete that laid as some of the foundation was a good indicator. Plus, There were still marks on the front of the building making out the letters to the old shop's name. That was a dead giveaway. I didn't mind any of this, though, because with a smaller gym, there would be less people seeing me and my disgusting, underdeveloped body. 

The second difference I noticed was the equipment. There was much more focus on machines that built endurance than there were a whole lot that helped work cardio. There were more pull up bars, more barbells, and even more mirrors. This was all beneficial for me, and the very idea of having a place with professional equipment that could help me with my ranges of focus was enough to get my blood pumping already. 

A third difference I took notice to was the kind of people I saw there. Unlike the other gym, where there were plenty of first-timers who you'd see once and then never again, majority of the gym was filled with a bunch of beefed up dudes. These guys were professionals. Well, at least they looked like it compared to me. 

Suddenly, all my puffed up pride had shriveled to a sliver, and I no longer felt as proud as I did when walking the halls of the school. These people weren't my equals. Some of the guys looked to be only a few years older than me, and while they didn't look like bodybuilders, they were definitely much more fit than me. Others were bodybuilders, bald guys with shiny heads and shiny muscles, all glistening with sweat so glossy you could see your own puny reflection in it. There were women there who stood several inches shorter than me, and somehow managed to appear more bulked than me.

The pressure I felt walking into the place for the first time after signing up was heavier than that of every weight on the premises and then some. Everything about the place reminded me of how new, young, and untrained I was on these grounds.

I have to tread lightly I told myself. I have to seem like I know what I'm doing, but without coming across as a know-it-all. 

Every bit of arrogance I masked as confidence was gone within the next few days. Because I realized that maybe I wasn't better than the people I'd left behind on pursuit of God knows what. Maybe I was worse than them.

Yet I still didn't understand how wrong I was. All those things that I thought were in my way--friends, school, family, hobbies--they weren't stumbling blocks or distractions...they were the only things keeping me grounded.

But I wouldn't realize that until I reached the point where I could no longer feel the ground beneath my feet. I wouldn't realize that until it was too late. 

~

Later that week, as the rest of the world turned like normal, and everyone else went about their normal day, and society as a whole kept functioning in its (somewhat) normal patterns, I was struggling to keep to my normal routine. I had no trouble keeping to the bare minimum with my sets, and there was no issue in keeping with my diet, supplements, and injections. The issue wasn't with doing too little; it was with doing more. 

I lie on my bed, long legs dangling off the mattress and on the floor, phone held right above my face, and scrolled through stupid stuff on the internet until I had no choice but to accept how bored I was. I let out an exaggerative huff and flopped on my side, squirming around a whole bunch in the process. I was more antsy than bored, really. I had plenty of stuff to do, not to mention those piles of homework that needed catching up on, but I didn't want to do any of that at the moment. 

I knew what I wanted, but I wasn't quite sure why. I wanted to go to the gym again. I wanted to see those newly familiar faces again, and envy the muscles that belonged to them. I wanted to have that constant reminder all around me that I was weak and puny, because as much as I hated thinking about myself that way, it really did make for good motivation. I wanted what that motivation lead to: progress, achievement, and those rushes of euphoria and adrenaline that came after a good workout. 

Problem was, I had already gone to the gym. I stayed longer than usual, too, hoping to get just a few more reps in before leaving. 

It was never just a few more reps. 

I didn't feel alive sitting around all day; I felt alive when I could feel my heart beating in my chest.

I need to feel alive. I want to feel alive. 

So, being the unhinged maniac with no sense of self-control that I was, I got off the bed, sat on the ground, and did a bunch of sit-ups. 

Not like I had much of a choice, anyway. Those nagging thoughts would keep pushing me and pushing me until I caved in.

I didn't bother keeping track. Numbers didn't matter at this point, this was all being driven by feelings of impulse. 

I'll stop when I feel like it. I'll stop when I want to. 

Nothing wrong with being a little healthier. Nothing wrong with getting ahead. Nothing wrong with pushing yourself a little more. 

Everything I was doing was so wrong. It was all so wrong, and I scream at my past self. 

I sat up one more time, then switched into a push up position. Through the tenderness, I forced my arms to support my weight, no matter how much my body begged me to give it a break.

I need more arm strength, anyway. Need to be prepared for those reps tomorrow, need to be ready for the next time I add weight to--

I heard a faint snap, and before my brain could process it, a searing pain ripped through my shoulder, slowly seeping down my arm. Arms buckling and unable to support my weight, I collapsed to the floor, hitting my chin on the way down. I cried out in pain as the burning sensation worsened. I had never felt such a pain in my life. 

My screams didn't fall on deaf ears, however. Moments later, mom was in the room, hurrying to my side as I continued to lie there, screeching in pain. Tears pricked my eyes, but I didn't care. I was in too much pain to feel insecure. 

"What's wrong? What happened? Where are you hurt?" she kept asking me. 

"My arm," I said through the stinging of pain and tears. I winced as I went to touch my shoulder with the opposite hand. 

As much pain as I was in, the main concerns running through my mind as we drove to urgent care were whether or not this would affect my sets, and how this would affect my progress.

I can't lose all my progress. I can't go back to the Nathan I was last year. I can't go back to being a skinny boy.

It wouldn't be a big deal if all of this wasn't the only thing I had going for me.

~

So I just got back from a Christmas candlelight service at my church, at which I played the violin with the worship team. I was unprepared and freaking ooooouut. But God must have heard my prayers because everyone I talked to afterward said they didn't notice any of the mistakes (even though they were there). Soooo...I might be able to some more early updates soon since my schedule won't be so filled.

How was your week? What are your plans for Christmas?

Thoughts on the chapter?

Teaser: a doctor's appointment and some confrontation