The Gym Trap.

Are you just grasping at shit to fill your time before you die?

We do not talk enough about gym addiction.

FOR EXAMPLE IT’S CINCO DE MAYO AND J IS NOWHERE TO BE FOUND.

Honolulu. Hot, sunny, breezy and busty. Just the way I ordered it.

The pack is out tonight.

We hop in my buddy’s truck.

Kai pulls out three peanut butter cups, chops them down. This is how you know someone’s a real alcoholic.

He’s got a breathalyzer kit for the four fucking DUIs he’s collected. The peanut butter lines his mouth, coats it, and we laugh for a few minutes til he blows into it ready to take off. The truck fires up. (Yes this actually fucking works.)

“Already got four. What’s another one. We’re tempting HPD tonight. Let’s see who’s the winner.”

We race out into the night air. Cinco de Mayo. Mezcal heavy on my tongue.

And for some reason my mind wanders to this question someone asked me.

What’s a dark truth about the gym that no one talks about?

I thought about it. I thought about why J called in tonight. And I thought bout How my life has only increased since I stopped going to the gym as often. And my instinct answer was this.

The gym steals directly from your mental energy.

Your mental power.

The gym takes from it. Takes from your life. Takes from your life force.

The gym Takes from you.

See, I’m not saying be a fat fuck. That is unacceptable.

Everybody who’s been there, knows life begins at 12% body fat.

But once you’ve been going to the gym for a while, and you have the lean build,you don’t need to keep coping. You don’t need to keep pretending to yourself.

You see, with all good things in life, the weaker ones turn it into their god and start to worship.

They pray at the altar of the gym because it gives them a sense of control. They can’t control their woman, the tax man, their income. They feel they clock in and clock out of their own life. They do not own it. They don’t have a business. They don’t have the freedom. They don’t even have the happiness.

So they take their asses to the gym. Slide under the squat rack. Bang set after set of womanly hip-enlarging squat reps. Hunker over till the weight has to be picked up and put back down. Bend their ass over in a hinge, lift it off the ground, drop it back down.Not realizing how fucking stupid they look. How prehistoric man would look at them and tell them they are fucking dumb fucks.

You have this abundance of life energy and you are spending it for free in a fucking gym.

Offering it up. Wait YOU ARE PAYING TO DO IT.

Are you just grasping at shit to fill your time with before you die?

Look, I still go to the gym. I almost get a fucking hard on when I look in the mirror and see that golden pump glisten over my skin, my veins ripping popped ready to burst and spray the gym goers red. But do not think for a single second I worship this. The gym is a chore. It is maintenance. It is not enjoyment. I’m not that indulgent.

My life increased when I stopped going.

My writing took off. My money started flowing toward me. My relationship got better. All of a sudden I have more time in the Day. More energy to do the things. I surf till dusk and race til dawn. I ride the bike. I write the thing. I fuck my girl.

You see the gym takes and takes and takes. lifting weights up and down is not interesting in the grand scheme of things.

While it has saved many men, those same men, if honest will tell you it trapped them. Like a Venus fly trap. They have missed out on so many interesting things in life

(Hi J.)

They don’t see it that way though. They’ll tell you about their PRs and their heavy bench and their bulky shitty looking fridge body, convinced they look better than you.

But you know the dirty secret. Once you’re lean, girls don’t give a fuck if you’re some giant fucking guy. You tell me what steroid ridden fuck gets more women’s attention than the lean surfer walking into the bar. They all know it. You know it deep down too. It sucks.

Beauty is violence when you’re beautiful. It is a violent act against everyone else.

But people are trading their entire life away in a misguided hypnosis pursuit of such.

Next time you’re so focused on going to the gym for that fifth day, or that sixth, or seventh in a row, maybe check your routine. The lab rat inside you knows. I got you. Ask if what you’re doing is really productive, or if the gym just feels productive. How you worked out and worked out and got to tell yourself how much you got done, you even posted on Instagram, proved to everyone you’re not lazy. Even though you go home and play video games. You’re not lazy though.

The gym is a hypnosis for many modern men.

Snap the fuck out of it. Put it in its place. And live.

Now I’m gonna go enjoy my Cinco de Mayo. I’m gonna say goodbye to my Notes app. And I’m gonna hit publish. Because I have a life. So do you.

GOD BLESS THE WOLVES.

God help the rest.

-Day

Yuh.