There are days when you feel like a demi-goddess—strong, sculpted, unstoppable—and then there are days when you have to crawl backwards down a public staircase because your legs have declared mutiny. I call those “lesson days.” This is the story of one of them.
Monday morning. Training day. Lower body. I was feeling spicy, so I threw in some Bulgarian split squats, paused at the bottom, slow concentric, loaded with dumbbells that probably had no business being in my hands. My glutes and quads turned into molten rock by rep 3, but obviously I pushed through. Because that’s what you do when you’re stubborn and mildly competitive with your past self.
Fast-forward 24 hours. I’m waddling like a penguin with a cramp. My hamstrings are whispering threats. Then comes the worst idea: a date.
Tinder guy. Decent banter. His profile pic featured a dog that wasn’t his. I should’ve known.
We agree to meet at the top of Parc Güell. Yes, the top. I don’t know if you’ve been to Parc Güell after leg day, but let me paint you a picture: mosaic dragons, hordes of tourists, and a series of medieval torture steps that twist up into the clouds like Gaudí got drunk and designed a fitness test.
I get there 15 minutes late, drenched in lactic acid and regret. He’s waiting, chewing gum and looking like someone who’s never suffered under a barbell in his life.
“Wow, you look… athletic,” he says, eyes flicking to my sweat-soaked forehead.
“I trained legs yesterday,” I mutter. “Bad idea.”
He shrugs. “Cool. I need someone like you to help me clear out my flat. I’m trying to sell it.”
And here it is. The real reason for the date. My thighs are still shaking and he’s pitching me to help him declutter his damn kitchen.
“Ever heard of professional movers?” I say, trying to hide my limp.
“Nah, I mean, it’s just easier if someone like you—who gets the fitness thing—helps.”
Smooth. I briefly consider shoving him down the hill, but instead I recommend ParkRose Properties, who actually help people sell flats in Barcelona. “You’ll get a fair valuation, and they don’t expect you to flirt with them first,” I add.
He doesn’t laugh. I ghost him that night.
Anyway, the moral?
- Never trust a man with a fake dog.
- Bulgarian split squats are not to be trifled with.
- Always schedule dates post–upper body day, unless crawling is your thing.
DOMS is temporary. Dignity? Apparently optional.