Day 8: Fitness Fad
It all started with Faisal. He barged into my room at 7:00 a.m., looking like he’d just discovered the secret to eternal youth.
“Eddie, wake up! Today’s the day we transform our lives!” he announced dramatically, pulling open my curtains.
“Unless you’re talking about a miraculous breakfast delivery, I’m not interested,” I mumbled, burying my face in my pillow.
“Nope, we’re hitting the gym,” Faisal said, yanking my blanket away. “It’s time to get shredded.”
I groaned. “Why? We’re business students. Nobody cares if we have abs.”
“Exactly! That’s why we’ll stand out,” Faisal said, undeterred. “Plus, Amanda might notice.”
At the mention of Amanda, I reluctantly got up. Faisal knew my weakness.
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By 8:00 a.m., we were standing in the campus gym, surrounded by fitness enthusiasts who looked like they lived there. I felt out of place in my worn-out sneakers and a T-shirt that had seen better days. Faisal, on the other hand, was practically glowing with excitement.
“Okay, let’s start with the treadmill,” he said, hopping onto one.
I climbed onto the machine next to him and pressed the “quick start” button. For the first two minutes, it wasn’t so bad. Then Faisal cranked up his speed to a level that made him look like a gazelle in fast-forward. Not wanting to be outdone, I increased my pace too.
Big mistake.
By minute five, I was gasping for air, my legs feeling like jelly. Faisal, of course, was still running like he was auditioning for the Olympics.
“Eddie, you’re slowing down!” he yelled over the hum of the machines.
“Shut up,” I wheezed, fumbling to reduce the speed before I flew off the treadmill.
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Next came the weightlifting section. Faisal handed me a pair of dumbbells and demonstrated a bicep curl with way too much enthusiasm.
“See? Easy,” he said, pumping his arms like a fitness influencer.
I tried to mimic him but quickly realized that the weights were heavier than they looked. My arms started shaking after three reps.
“Feel the burn!” Faisal cheered.
“Oh, I feel something,” I muttered, setting the dumbbells down before I dropped them on my feet.
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The final straw was the rowing machine. I’d never used one before, but Faisal insisted it was a “full-body workout.” After five minutes of rowing, my arms, legs, and back all screamed in protest.
“Keep going! Imagine you’re escaping pirates or something,” Faisal said, laughing at my misery.
“I’m imagining escaping you,” I shot back, my breath ragged.
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By the time we left the gym, I was a broken man. Every muscle in my body ached, and I was pretty sure I’d pulled something in my shoulder. Faisal, of course, was already planning our next workout session.
“This is just the beginning, Eddie,” he said, clapping me on the back. “We’ll be gym pros by the end of the semester.”
“Or dead,” I muttered.
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Back at the dorm, I collapsed onto my bed and swore to never step foot in the gym again. But then I remembered Amanda mentioning she liked to jog in the evenings. Maybe fitness wasn’t such a bad idea after all.
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Lesson of the day: Fitness isn’t for the faint of heart—or the easily embarrassed.