Goin' Out To Cally – Part 46, Satan’s Crunches

Tim and Beth were heading into downtown San Francisco to visit Beth’s friend. They asked if we wanted to join them, but we rolled over and said “no.” In reality, we needed a break from each other. The tension had grown into a definite us versus them mentality. Tim and Beth were very frustrated with Sunday and me and we felt the same way with them.

A part of me was also frustrated with Sunday, but I also felt responsible for her being on the trip in the first place, so I was in a no-win situation. I decided to put my relaxed “let’s see what happens” attitude to the test and just focused on making it through the rest of the trip.

The sound of Sunday fumbling around in the bathroom finally pulled me from my sleep. We knew that the hotel checkout was at 11 a.m. and Sunday and I wanted to try out the exercise room and pool. Sunday appeared from the bathroom wearing a comfortable outfit designed for working out.

“You coming?” she asked.

“Sure,” I said as I hopped out of the bed into the bathroom. After a quick teeth brushing and face cleaning, I threw on a pair of shorts and t-shirt and was ready to sweat my butt off. My senior year in college I had taken a weight lifting class and was very familiar with the latest equipment and effective exercise techniques.

As we walked into the hotel exercise room we could not help but be completely disappointed. It was only slightly larger than a walk in closet and consisted of a single, four station pulley-system weight machine. Sunday and I just sighed and did whatever exercises we could figure out.

It was at this time that Sunday introduced me to something I had never experienced before… the abdominal crunch. I had done plenty of full sit-ups, but not the half sit-up crunch before. Sunday lay on the bench and showed me how to do it. It looked simple enough… I mean, you just start to do a sit up and quit when the hard part starts. That’s easy!

I lay down next to her and she placed her hand on my stomach. “Pull up from here, not from your neck,” she said. I shrugged off her comments with a “yeah, yeah, get out of my way so I can master this crunch thingy” attitude. I started up and back down. Easy. Up and back down. Easy. Up and back down. Okay, a little harder that time. Up and back down. Hey, that burns! Up and back down. I think I’m hemorrhaging. Up and back down. I think my spleen exploded.

At this point I was frantic. Sunday had just reeled off a quick set of twenty and here I was on crunch number seven seeing a light at the end of a tunnel and my dead relatives waiting to greet me. I was a complete wuss!

I was not to be outdone doing exercise by… by a girl! Yes, in a moment of sheer panic I had reverted back to third grade. I was a boy and she was a girl and I was supposed to be stronger than a girl, period, end of sentence.

Up and back down. My face was turning purple. Up and back down. The veins in my neck popped so far out from the strain that the collar of my t-shirt was getting tight.

How was this possible? Just a few months ago in weight class I was lifting two hundred and fifty pounds over my head with ease. But now, in San Francisco, on a pansy little pulley machine I can’t do a half sit-up in front of a girl?

I collapsed when I reached ten and lay motionless on the floor waiting for the fire raging in my stomach muscles to subside.

Sunday hopped up and looked at me with sympathetic eyes.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” she asked.

“A little… maybe,” I lied.

She chuckled, knowing I was lying through my teeth and pulled me up to a standing position.

“Wanna go swimming? We have time,” she asked as she checked her watch.

What I wanted to do was collapse on the floor and try to recapture my masculinity. But the idea of seeing Sunday in a bathing suit… well, I decided to suffer in silence.

“Sure!” I replied. “I love to swim. I pretty good, actually.”

Having seen me struggle to complete ten half sit-ups, better known as Satan’s crunches, Sunday found it difficult to believe I possessed any physical prowess what so ever.

“Really?” she asked with such disbelief that I found myself insulted at the same time.

The third grade boy inside of me was determined to kick her little girl ass in the pool. I’d show her just what sort of manly man she was dealing with.

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Part 46, (Text, Audio)
Part 45, (Text, Audio) - Part 44, (Text, Audio) - Part 43, (Text, Audio)
Part 42, (Text, Audio) - Part 41, (Text, Audio) Part 40, (Text, Audio)
Part 39, (Text, Audio) - Part 38, (Text, Audio) - Part 37, (Text, Audio)
Part 36, (Text, Audio) - Part 35, (Text, Audio) - Part 34, (Text, Audio)
Part 33, (Text, Audio) - Part 32, (Text, Audio) - Part 31, (Text, Audio)
Part 30, (Text, Audio) - Part 29, (Text, Audio) - Part 28, (Text, Audio)
Part 27, (Text, Audio) - Part 26, (Text, Audio) - Part 25, (Text, Audio)
Part 24, (Text, Audio) - Part 23, (Text, Audio) - Part 22, (Text, Audio)
Part 21, (Text, Audio) - Part 20, (Text, Audio) - Part 19, (Text, Audio)
Part 18, (Text, Audio) - Part 17, (Text, Audio) - Part 16, (Text, Audio)
Part 15, (Text, Audio) - Part 14, (Text, Audio) - Part 13, (Text, Audio)
Part 12 (Text, Audio) - Part 11 (Text, Audio) - Part 10 (Text, Audio)
Part 09, (Text, Audio) - Part 08, (Text, Audio) - Part 07 (Text, Audio)
Part 06 (Text, Audio) - Part 05 (Text, Audio) - Part 04 (Text, Audio)
Part 03 (Text, Audio) - Part 02 (Text, Audio) - Part 01 (Text, Audio)