Motherfucking cocksucker motherfucking shit fucker what am I doing? What am I doing? I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m doing the best that I can. I know that’s all I can ask of myself. Is that good enough? I’m fucked! Maybe I should quit. Don’t quit! Maybe I should just fucking quit. Don’t fucking quit! I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to fucking do anymore! Fucker! Fuck shit!
- Albert Markovski, I <3 Huckabees
I <3 Huckabees is my favorite movie. I haven’t seen it in ages, but I know almost every line by heart. Albert’s opening monologue is obscene, but it’s seriously what goes through my head when I feel like my heart might explode and my lungs are burning and my legs are starting to cramp and my grip is about to fail and I know I have to keep pushing and keep pushing because DON’T FUCKING QUIT.
I didn’t fucking quit today, even though I wanted to. I didn’t even want to go. I never want to go, but 6:45 rolls around and I know I’ll regret it if I don’t get off my lazy ass and get in the car already. Once I’m there, it’s almost easy to keep going. Easier than starting, anyway. Just don’t fucking quit. I made a friend, and she goes almost religiously every MWF at 7pm. I know the workout is difficult for her, because lots of times we’re struggling beside each other, both yelling at the other not to fucking quit. She’s probably tired of hearing me yell the phrase “just one more!” because it’s almost always a lie. There’s always “just one more” after that one more. So I figure if she can get off the couch three times a week, the least I can do is meet her there so we can yell at each other.
Today I got yelled at by someone entirely new. I don’t know her name, but in my mind I think of her as Shorty. She’s teeny and fierce. She does all the workouts as prescribed and still finishes ages before I do. And today, I had about two minutes to go and I wanted to fucking quit, and I almost did, and then I heard Shorty yelling right in my ear not to fucking quit. So I didn’t. I closed my eyes and kept going, and I finished a full minute faster than I thought I would. I’ve been at this gym for less than a month and already I have a handful of people who encourage me more than I’d have dreamed. It’s nice.
When that voice in my head gets too tired to tell me not to fucking quit, there’s someone else’s voice to take over.