I keep meeting like-minded folk at the gym. By that, I mean skilled shit-talkers. You’ve already met Paul. Also, there’s Phil, and his lovely wife Erin. I could go on. The shit-talkers are various and sundry.
Today, we were doing the WOD in heats. I had already gone, as had the woman who sat beside me, both of us panting on the floor and cheering on the other athletes.
Now, remember Brutus? Despite the fact that there’s an ever-present stream of booming bass and/or loud guitars thundering through the speaker, Brutus is always wearing his iPod. I turned to the woman next to me.
Me: Do you ever wonder what Brutus is listening to?
Her: I kinda feel like it’s a motivational speaker.
Me: That’s what I thought!
Her: Maybe it’s his own voice. “Come on, Brutus! You can do it!”
Me: “Hands on the bar, you pussy!”
We watched him do some double-unders and 75-lb power snatches.
Me: Either that, or Wilson Phillips’ “Hold On for One More Day”.
Her: On repeat.