Goaded Productivity

Sins felt the dopamines coarsing through his body, a sudden rush of blood to his head sent him into splits, his breathing became more controlled as he pushed the last repetition of the bench press, feeling all the load on the centre of his contracted chest.

Yes, the pre-workout protein was definitely a boost. Sins felt alive, so much that he began jumping on the spot randomly beside the press machine, the room lit up in faint neon, with soothing music, not ideal for physical exertion, but love making. A vivid image of a plus sized woman flashed in front of his eyes. He shook off the image and went up to the kiosk, to get a cup of water from the dispenser. The gym was surprisingly still empty, none of his coworkers had arrived yet after work.

The trainer lurked in a corner, beside the store room, his eyes glued to his phone, smiling and humming an old romantic tune. Sins trained alone, only bothering the trainer when he wanted to change or incorporate new things into his workout routine.

A middle aged man entered and nodded at Sins genially, making his way towards the trainer, who by now was practically singing. The man stepped on the treadmill, handily located adjacent to a transparent glass facade overlooking a lush green lawn on the outside, and began walking at a leisurely pace, his arms hanging beside, swaying weakly, as if imploring the legs to take it easy.

Sins didn’t like this gym, thanks in part to a demotivated visiting crowd, who seemed content to do the same routines everyday. The atmosphere was one of hanging on to life support, not one of rousing vows proclaiming daily fitness gains, which required pushing individual boundaries and courage to do so.

It had been ten months since he had begun working in the organisation, a subsidiary of a reputed conglomerate, it’s imposingly designed structure located thirteen miles from his residence, or rather his parents’ residence, where he took shelter. Suddenly, he was struck by the fact that he would turn twenty four in eight months, a mere two hundred or so days away. Now to think of it, he wondered if he himself was making any progress at all, intellectually or financially. On the physical front, he satisfiedly assured himself that things were going well, but what about the other two?

He realised his consistency, his mental scolding of himself, whenever he stared at the mirror in the months past, hoping to shame himself to action through his potato shaped former body. The results were such that, he had been self goaded to exercise almost everyday, and that had helped, a lot.

He began thinking about how he could be self goaded to work on the other two parameters. So thinking, he hit the showers, and let the ice cold water wash over his body, soothing his muscles.

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