Hello. I’m not writing this because I care about you.
I’m writing this because I have a song stuck in my head.
It’s called “Intensity.” It goes like this: “Intensity, intensity, intensity.” Intensity is the greatest and most terrible joy. Intensity is the hell you crave. Intensity is a disease. I wrote the following tips so that you too can catch the motivational tuberculosis that is intensity.
Start with the basics- Push-ups, planks, squats. 100 each. Feel your body reject the intensity. Tell your body it’s not in charge anymore. Do 500 more push-ups. Good. Warm-up over.
Reward yourself for your efforts- Yeah, go ahead! Take a day off. You deserve it. Joke. The previous sentences were a sarcastic joke. There is no reward for the weak.
Burn your house down. Sleep outside on a mattress of barbed wire. Kidding again, never sleep. Punch a moving car. Hurt? Not enough. Never enough.
Get your family involved- I named my only son Protein. He just turned 9. Did I wish him happy birthday with a fairy-dairy sugary cake? No I did not. The day before his birthday I put him under a 150-pound bar. He had to bench press his right to a 9th year of life.
Death is a lie we tell ourselves- So you’ve run 20 miles, done 1,000 pull-ups, and you’re worried. Your vision: blurry. Your body: bloody and numb. You fall and break your arm but feel nothing. In this moment, remind yourself that there is one God and her name is Intensity and she will not let you escape her clutches by something so frivolous as cardiac failure. Now go do 100 one-arm pushups on your broken arm. You’re pathetic.
