god. day #3 of going to the gym and just fucking running because everywhere but the track is busy. oh my god my legs. my thighs. i've never understood my dad like i do now. i'll squat anywhere. in the elevator, in the chili's pickup line, waiting for the light to change at the crosswalk. i be out here squatting

i also have some solid plans to eat a chicken breast for breakfast tomorrow so that'll be a strong start to my weekend. fuckin meat breakfast

going running makes me feel like those dogs at the park that pull and pull and pull on the leash so much that it chokes them and they make these awful coughing sounds. my body wants to fucking go, fucking all-out sprint nonstop until my legs go out from under me because it feels fucking good but my lungs and throat hold me back, especially with the dry-ass air in that gym. holy shit if my lungs were like a horse's you would never fucking catch me i'd be gone moving forever and ever. even trying to keep pace with chris is frustrating because i want to walk faster and push myself instead of recover. i need to start going swimming in the morning or something, i love feeling like this