HOLD IT BACK !!!

I can feel it welling up. That last set of 30 reps on the leg press, and then a drop for an additional 15, then one final drop for 15 more, that was the one. It got me. I can feel it in the pit of my stomach—or is that my soul trying to escape through my esophagus?

I can feel the acid building, the queasy, eggs flipping in my stomach, went down over easy, threatening to come out scrambled. Do I stay? Do I hold it back? Do I fight some more, or let it fly?

I glance in the mirror. Wow, I’m looking pasty, a little peaked, white flesh clinging below the bags beneath my eyes, the color drained, the beaded sweat upon brow…

…what where we talking about?

Oh yeah. I need to sit down. I need to get my bearings…

Man, is it hot in here, like a sauna. I can hardly breathe. Maybe if I go crack open a door. Just move your feet in that direction, towards the fresh air.

Didn’t realize moving my feet was going to be that difficult. Not so much “walking” as “penguin-ing” across the gym floor, looking for an out, an exit, or at least a bucket in case I need it.

Nope, fresh air not happening, we need a bathroom, and we need it STAT!

You know the only thing worse than putting your ass on a gym toilet? Putting your face down next to it. And oh, while violently retching your guts out. That doesn’t exactly make it better.

Shit, four dollars’ worth of intraworkout down the crapper. But stomach has stopped doing somersaults, so that’s good. Time to amble back to the leg section, round two awaits.

And off we go to hacks. One plate, now two, then three. And it returns, that devil stabbing your belly, begging to be released and unleashed. The hacking cough escapes my lips in an attempt to fight, but the seal has been broken, there’s no hope today. Gotta’ let it fly.

Ain’t no holding back this gain train. Glory lasts forever. Thank god puking is temporary.

-David A. Johnston