Doesn't that picture give you the impression that I get up in the morning yearning for a little time in the gym? I'm probably the kind of guy that works out first thing in the morning and watches the sunrise while I'm on my run, right? Wrong. I hate getting off the couch, I hate struggling through hangovers, and I hate how exhausted and useless I feel for an hour after I work out.
So then why the hell do it?
Because there's a short window between hating having to get off the couch and hating how strongly I want to vomit up my post-workout protein shake that I feel positively invincible. For twenty minutes, I'm roving the gym like a hungry tyrannosaurus: devouring forty-five pound plates and laying waste to any lift that stands in my way.
Then I feel like this again:
It's worth it. Go get your fifteen minutes of invincibility and come back. I'll wait for you.