Caleb and his Workout Can Both Rot
My brother Caleb has taken me on as his personal athletic side-project. I feel so blessed.
A bit of context here folks, just so you can have an idea of the kind of pain I've been going through: Caleb is a professional athlete - a javelin thrower, and is now training full-time with Canada's Olympic throws coach in Lethbridge. Caleb eats workouts for breakfast. Example: he busted one of the machines at our gym this week doing 550 pound leg extensions. And apparently that was just the warm-up.
Ok, context provided. So Caleb decided in October that he wanted to extend the wonderful world of athleticism to his beloved sister. And it seemed like a good idea at the time, so I agreed to submit to the workout he designed for me. And I've actually been having a decent time at it...I've been doing everything he tells me to do - all the squat thingys and lunges and etc etc etc - but then Caleb came home from Alberta for Christmas and put me through what the bugger appropriately called 'Caleb's Bootcamp'. The bootcamp sessions have now blurred in my mind (primal intuitiveness has erased them from my memory for the sake of my mental health) - but I can say, with absolute certainty, that burpees are the invention of a maniacal, sadistic and depraved human being and should be banned from civilized society. And also, Caleb is a butthead for making me do them. I couldn't stand up straight for six days.
'We're working on your CARDIOVASCULAR SYSTEM', Caleb bellowed during the workout, 'thirty more to go, SUCK IT UP PANSY.' And then I would have called him a stupid git, but I didn't have enough energy.