Orc
diagnosed autist
Staff
- Joined
- Jul 18, 2022
- Posts
- 26,052
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my workouts are classified as natural disasters by the united nations, and every rep I perform alters the gravitational field of my surrounding area, last week, I dropped a dumbbell and tectonic plates shifted, my mere warm-up sets have been mistaken for seismic activity by NASA, the united nations holds emergency summits every time I hit a new PR, and my warm-ups are monitored via satellite to prevent accidental planetary displacement.
I don’t train with weights, I train with concepts. I bench press the idea of fear and deadlift the collective guilt of humanity, my warm-ups involve rearranging the molecular structure of air to increase resistance, I accidentally curled an abstract emotion, and now joy no longer exists in a five-mile radius of my garage, my curls distort causality itself, on one occasion, I curled so hard that an alternate version of myself briefly appeared to cheer me on before vanishing back into the void.
my workout playlist consists of whale songs recorded in frequencies only I can hear.
I train at such a high frequency that my workouts can only be perceived by shrimp and certain breeds of parrot, my heart beats in morse code, spelling out forbidden knowledge that drives lesser beings mad.
I don’t consume food for energy, my body metabolizes the raw ambition of others who dare to train in my shadow, my sweat is considered a performance-enhancing substance, and several countries have banned it under anti-doping regulations, my sweat isn’t just banned by anti-doping agencies; it’s kept under lock and key in a classified laboratory because of its ability to induce spontaneous muscle growth in anyone who touches it, a team of astrophysicists recently discovered that my pecs emit low-frequency vibrations that stabilize the earth’s magnetic field, I do not hydrate with water, I drink antimatter stored in a thermos that must be kept at absolute zero, when I sweat, rare and untraceable isotopes form on my skin, causing scientists to bicker over the true nature of existence, I've taken a sip of pre-workout and accidentally traveled back in time to arm wrestle the neanderthals into extinction, I metabolize emotions, consuming envy, despair, and misplaced confidence as fuel for my gains.
when I perform cardio, I don’t run on a treadmill, I chase lightning storms across open plains, my veins map routes that google earth refuses to chart for fear of overwhelming their servers. I once lost a lifting belt, and it resurfaced months later, being worshiped as a divine artifact in an uncontacted amazonian tribe, I race the concept of inevitability itself, my cardio sessions cause hurricanes to change course, and my pulse has been detected by deep-space probes as a recurring anomaly, my resting heart rate generates its own wifi signal, and my metabolism is currently being auctioned by energy conglomerates as the solution to global power shortages.
I don’t follow workout programs because I invented them all, personal trainers seek my advice, only to return with tear-streaked faces, unworthy of the enlightenment I provide, my resting heart rate is measured in gigahertz, and my metabolism could power a mid-sized city for a year, my training program was co-authored by an alien intelligence and the ghost of nikola tesla, but even they admitted it was beyond their comprehension, I invent philosophies, every exercise I perform becomes a sacred ritual, studied and revered by monks who carve my training logs into stone tablets for future generation.
I once whispered my workout split to a personal trainer, and they ascended to a higher plane of existence, leaving behind only a single tear of gratitude.
I don’t train with weights, I train with concepts. I bench press the idea of fear and deadlift the collective guilt of humanity, my warm-ups involve rearranging the molecular structure of air to increase resistance, I accidentally curled an abstract emotion, and now joy no longer exists in a five-mile radius of my garage, my curls distort causality itself, on one occasion, I curled so hard that an alternate version of myself briefly appeared to cheer me on before vanishing back into the void.
my workout playlist consists of whale songs recorded in frequencies only I can hear.
I train at such a high frequency that my workouts can only be perceived by shrimp and certain breeds of parrot, my heart beats in morse code, spelling out forbidden knowledge that drives lesser beings mad.
I don’t consume food for energy, my body metabolizes the raw ambition of others who dare to train in my shadow, my sweat is considered a performance-enhancing substance, and several countries have banned it under anti-doping regulations, my sweat isn’t just banned by anti-doping agencies; it’s kept under lock and key in a classified laboratory because of its ability to induce spontaneous muscle growth in anyone who touches it, a team of astrophysicists recently discovered that my pecs emit low-frequency vibrations that stabilize the earth’s magnetic field, I do not hydrate with water, I drink antimatter stored in a thermos that must be kept at absolute zero, when I sweat, rare and untraceable isotopes form on my skin, causing scientists to bicker over the true nature of existence, I've taken a sip of pre-workout and accidentally traveled back in time to arm wrestle the neanderthals into extinction, I metabolize emotions, consuming envy, despair, and misplaced confidence as fuel for my gains.
when I perform cardio, I don’t run on a treadmill, I chase lightning storms across open plains, my veins map routes that google earth refuses to chart for fear of overwhelming their servers. I once lost a lifting belt, and it resurfaced months later, being worshiped as a divine artifact in an uncontacted amazonian tribe, I race the concept of inevitability itself, my cardio sessions cause hurricanes to change course, and my pulse has been detected by deep-space probes as a recurring anomaly, my resting heart rate generates its own wifi signal, and my metabolism is currently being auctioned by energy conglomerates as the solution to global power shortages.
I don’t follow workout programs because I invented them all, personal trainers seek my advice, only to return with tear-streaked faces, unworthy of the enlightenment I provide, my resting heart rate is measured in gigahertz, and my metabolism could power a mid-sized city for a year, my training program was co-authored by an alien intelligence and the ghost of nikola tesla, but even they admitted it was beyond their comprehension, I invent philosophies, every exercise I perform becomes a sacred ritual, studied and revered by monks who carve my training logs into stone tablets for future generation.
I once whispered my workout split to a personal trainer, and they ascended to a higher plane of existence, leaving behind only a single tear of gratitude.
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