I'm the flamingo in the middle.
I used to get asked about the white strings hanging out of my shorts. They were my legs. I was born without legs, sort of. The good Lord saw fit to make me work for my legs if I wanted them. I want them.
I used to approach leg day with fear and loathing. Sometimes I still do. Because I know it's going to suck, If done right. Mike and I don't always get to train together, but we arrange our days to make sure we can hammer legs as a team. We need the support to do what we have committed to do to our lower halves. He taught me to hammer them way beyond anything I had done. I used to train legs like a sissy. Not anymore. We Squat, and press, and squat some more, and curl, and extend, and destroy our calves. And no workout is complete without walking lunges.
Shortly into this new leg routine I found myself puking in the icy parking lot. A lady walks by asking if I'm okay. "Perfect!" I reply, in a masochistic way. I actually liked it. I broke through the fear and embraced the suckiness of it all! From then on, leg day is the day we inflict the heaviest load on ourselves. We stack the bar with a scary weight, for at least one set just to prove it can't crush us. We grunt and sweat and pant and look like complete disasters limping out the gym doors. We are half worthless the rest of the day and end u walking funny for the next 6 days, just in time for another leg workout.
Today was the last leg day before competition. In my mind it would be a glorious milestone of another year of effort wrapping up. But there was no celebration, no steak afterward. Today it just sucked. Sucked the life out of me that is. But I finished my course, I kept the faith! And another year of legs is complete. Next week on the stage I get to see what changed.
