July 5th, 2025 By Marlboro

Workout Recap – July 5: Three Hot Messes, One Trail, Zero Straight Energy

This morning, an attorney, an engineer, and a funeral director went for a 4.5-mile run — not for fitness, not for clarity, but because therapy is expensive and trauma looks cuter in Lycra. 🏳️‍🌈💅

Let’s set the scene:

•The attorney arrived like a subpoena: sudden, aggressive, and already sweating through $80 deodorant. Quads tight, morals looser. Tried to bill the run in six-minute intervals.

•The engineer brought a spreadsheet, two watches, and zero charisma. His idea of “small talk” is describing torque.

•The funeral director was serving “funeral chic meets club aftercare,” in all black with resting ‘I’ve seen your browser history’ face. He did not run — he glided like an emotionally unavailable vampire with a gym membership.

The run was a blend of panting, light trauma bonding, and highly inappropriate laughter. They talked about love, capitalism, slow deaths (romantic and literal), and which muscles hurt more: the glutes or the heart.

Post-run, they collapsed into pushups and sit-ups that were… aspirational at best. Think “half effort, full drama.” One of them moaned during a sit-up and no one’s sure if it was pain or foreplay. The grunting alone could’ve gotten flagged on Instagram.

Quotes overheard:

•“If I die mid-run, make sure my eulogy is petty.”

•“This workout is like my last relationship — unnecessarily hard and emotionally abusive.”

•“Does sweat count as foreplay if I’m making eye contact?”

By the end, they were drenched, emotionally raw, and glowing like sluts in a skincare commercial. Not necessarily healthier, but definitely more chaotic — and somehow gayer than when they started. One might even say this wasn’t a workout. It was performance art. A cardio-fueled cry for help with abs.

They’ll be back next week — tighter, gayer, and probably still emotionally unavailable. Bring water, trauma, and a safe word. 🧼💦⚖️📐🪦

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