Dragoncaller (dragoncaller) wrote,

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Gathering dust, rolling them into bunnies

Flashing, blurring blades spinning in a cage, fanning cool wind. Chain, black, shinning with oil ratcheting on a silver gear. Iron and aluminum, the machine moans like a lover. Sweat glistens, as I heave on my oar, pulling the chain with spins the fan, blades turned to resist the air, fight it. The harder I pull, the harder it fights.

Heat, challenge, muscles glowing with fire.

My row machine. It's a brutal hunk of metal built Marine tough for toughening Marines. I own one and I use it.

I did use it.

I used to use it.

How odd that time crawls when you watch it, but slips like shadow the moment you turn your back. My machine, my pride, my strength, my Thor's Hammer is buried beneath laundry. What a sad fate for such a warrior.

For me.

Well, enough of that. Moving day! It will be unearthed and I will reclaim its power. Space will be made and I get back to training! I have no delusions of being better, faster, stronger, younger than before, but round is a shape I am not happy with. Time to hit the Gym!
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