It’s 05:10. Antonette is doing burpees. Mike meanders in, then cues up Tiny Dancer by Elton John. Antonette melts from both Mike’s song choice and tight pants, causing her to cease said burpees, and reconsider her relationship with Scott. Meanwhile, Kristie is upside-down in the corner, wondering what the heck is going on. A few minutes of thoughtful workout planning go by. In walks Prachi, who quickly assumes the pigeon pose. Next, comes Courtney. Courtney means business. She skips salutations all together and darts straight for the basement to get kettlebells for herself and her super-friend, Nicole. As time passes, more and more people stroll in. Some, like Dean for example, have been stretching since 03:00, so even though it’s 05:25, the good people of FITT are ready.
It’s now 05:30, which means it’s time for “warm up”— a 2,000m row coupled with kettlebell swings. This means Ken will be doing his 500th swing of the week. As heart rates rise and sweat begins to bead, Aarti and Deb finish first. Water break. Mike calls forth his class to explain the “work out.” After agreeable head shaking and no further questions, cue the Red Hot Chili Peppers, for its time. 3-2-1-GO. After one round of haphazard confusion due to Mike’s jargon and crazy ideas, the class begins to run smoothly. One could even say flow. Each negative chin up defies gravity for five slow motion seconds. Kettlebells are being swung in each and every direction. No matter how far you look, a super-friend is in sight. All is right in the world. Then fatigue sets in. Dave goes silent, Darrell has stopped breathing and Ricardo is in a frantic search for a sweat towel. Mike raises the music in attempt to drown out the sound of labored breathing. His tactic does not work. The people are tired, but are yet to complete the last round. There’s only 10 minutes of class left.
As the sun begins to rise, the clock strikes 06:11. Yes, symbolically we just worked the sun up. It’s #beautiful. Being allergic to the sun and yoga mats, our resident cave dweller Rob ascends the basement stairs with two light-to-medium weight dumbbells in hand. At the sight of his face, we all generate a fight or flight response. Freshly inspired, we persevere and complete the last round. Water break. Before wiping the equipment down of sweat produced by four people, it’s time to drop in our place for “core.” The wise elders of the group are now assuming childish positions and attempting to breath in unorthodox ways. After two minutes of torture, everyone flocks for the door gasping for air. Good-byes are said, stretching is had, and mutual respect has been earned. During this past hour, normal people are snoozing alarms, rolling over and farting in bed, but not us. We are a #FITTFAM and I wouldn’t trade you people for anyone.
Stay tuned for next time. The clock hits 06:30. In walks Dan…
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