I have relinquished you, yet you hang on. Life has turned to the sedate, mass was squandered, yet you hang on. The memo is that we have moved on. The further from war, the ease of Thor... it’s over now, past the sell-by date; forgotten rotten as it were. Yesterday’s warriors dwindle to stories then dust, but mostly in dreams. Do not hold on to yesterday’s mass, time moves on. Your moment was only a moment yet doesn’t carry on. Slow down, recoil into the recesses of opaqueness, and dream the Elysian dream; it’s ok now. Only problem, what about these triceps, outer biceps, and deltoids expounding? Why are your traps there? What happened to the 19” calves who refuse to submit? It just doesn’t add up! Does not the body know we are done? Are the speed-skating thighs of yore ignorant of the desire for pasture? Two seconds is all I ask! Two seconds to carry forth or discuss a past just lost. All I ask is two more seconds... before I give up, the hat goes down, and the laces tied for the last time. Old muscles, I have only ever asked for volume, just this once, can I ask for time?
Old muscle...
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Getting old sucks. I keep losing muscle mass (despite physio telling me that I have more than people my age). -
We should go find that sad thread I made and bump it. The one where I vowed to never do gear ever again. Yea that one. I think it ended with you guys making fun of me.Comment
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