The Devil We Love....

I am drawn to pain. And I value muscle spasms and wheezing. That’s the only explanation I can offer for why I wake at 5:24 AM every Monday, Wednesday and Friday to drive to a nondescript storefront on the west side of Logan where I experience the afore-mentioned pain, muscle spasms and seriously labored wheezing. A sane person wouldn’t do that unless they liked it… right?! And like pledges going through hazing together in a fraternity, the other souls who also seem enticed by pain gather with me in a circle around the devil. Yes, the devil… She smiles the entire time we are warming up, clearly planning and conniving and relishing the thought of discovering new ways to make us cry out and beg for mercy. All the while, she just smiles. The smile that tells us we are in trouble…

Like sleepy sheep, we take our places and follow the orders, which are deceivingly mixed with positive encouragement – encouragement which only exists to keep us going to the next round of torture. Today, Mike and I were discussing (when the she-devil was busy inflicting punishment on someone else) whether Lisa (the she-devil's earthly name) received a bonus for causing someone to pass out. Brave Mike asked the she-devil if this were true and she said no, with a smile, and countered that the bonus came when she caused us to throw up! We KNEW it! We got back to our Rip 60 straps, which clearly could double as dungeon restraints, and did our best to stay in line as to not draw the ire of the ever smiling princess of darkness.

Incline running (21 percent grade!), pushups in straps, pull-ups, flys (wider!), spinning (faster, faster!), V-sits, lunges (lower!), planks, burpees (!!!) and walking on fiery coals (slower!)… It just went on and on and there she was, telling us to go from one to the other, waiting for obvious signs of lethal fatigue before shouting how good we were doing, causing us to lose perspective on reality and push a little harder. Our group has been being tortured like this for more than 8 weeks now. We have seen each other at our worst (Except for Kandy, who I think is a she-devil in training). We feel each other’s pain and we celebrate each round of survival in the midst of the queen of torture. Lisa allows us this little comfort of friendship because she senses that it keeps us pushing, for ourselves as well as for each other. When one of us is missing, we don’t wonder why they didn’t show… We simply wonder what SHE did with them, and if she will allow them back from wherever they were sent. We feel a kinship because we have to for the sake of survival. When we are one, we feel we are strong enough to keep the she-devil at bay. True or not, it is sometimes all we have to hold on to... 

Like powerless drones, we come back each morning knowing what lies before us. I wouldn’t call it willingly because it has become a sick habit. We go to push and be pushed. To feel the searing of our muscles and emptiness of each module in our lungs. To hear the princess of pain tell us our form is really improving… and that we are stronger than we were 8 weeks ago… And to tell us we are looking great. We lap up the encouragement from this smiling enigma of darkness and gain energy from her smile. And we think about the almost 4 weeks we have left of her doling out her ingeniously creative punishments and we wonder… How are we going to get along when it’s over and the she-devil is gone from our mornings? I am going to miss it like crazy.