I walk into the gym on a sunday morning. The gym is dimly lit, there is no heat on and its 10 degrees outside. The iron is cold to the touch. The machines are old and rustic, just the way I like them. Paint chips off of the machines, and there is about an inch of dust on them. I begin to warm up with some light dumbbell work, stretching my muscles to prepare them for the battle ahead. A few guys are also in the gym with me. Other beasts, so to speak, though we do not like to brag about this. The work out starts off with weighted pull-ups, 6 sets. I complete these with pure exhaustion, then walk over to the dumbbell rack. The dumbbells from the 100s to the 190s have dust all over them, which means they are never used. I pick up the 100's and bang out 15, then work my way up to the 180's for 12 solid reps. As I walk by, another lift stares at me intensely and says, "No guts, no glory." I nod my head in approval. I then head over to the t-bar row machine and put on 4 45 plates and bang out 12 reps. After my first set, I take a trip over to the sandbox to puke. The owner, a hardcore older man built this sandbox for us to puke in. We call it, "The Dumpster." I then go back and add on a few more plates, working my way up to 7 45 plates for a sloppy 8 reps, but at this point, the form does not matter. Its just gut grinding work. I then proceed to complete barbell rows by piling on 3 45's on each side for 10 reps, and work my way up to 4-5 plates per side. Cant really remember, as I blacked out. They dumped water on my face to help me regain consciousness. Then I finish off the workout with a brutal superset of latpulldowns with dumbbell pullovers. After the 4th superset, I make my way to "The Dumpster" to throw up my muscle tech pre-workout shake. My work out is complete. I enter the locker and sit down and begin to ponder why I do this to myself. I take a long look in the mirror, reflect on my workout, and fully realize, like the Buddha, that I was made different from the average person. This is my burden. I begin to walk out the front door and the owner looks at me and says, "Respect." I say, "Right back at ya, buddy" and go home.