Et tu, milk crate?

So, I'm working out like a crazy person. I'm at the gym, most of the day. While all this physical activity is draining, my biggest enemy is boredom.
Boredom keeps me off the treadmill. Boredom makes me want to cancel my sessions. (boredom still hasn't reached me on the elliptical machine. Boredom is probably too busy laughing and pointing at me to try to get me while on that particular machine.) Boredom keeps me from doing my exercises fully and correctly. Boredom sucks.
So, Tyrese is always one step ahead of me. (Whether I like it or not.) He's always trying creative ways to get me to do my stuff. Some things work, some things don't work.
One day, he lugs over what looks like an over sized plastic milk crate. He sets it up in front of the gigantic mirrors, and waves me over. He tells me that I'm to put my right foot on the crate. Then my left. (so I'm standing on this precarious crate now. It moans slightly.) Drop my left foot back down to the ground, followed by my right.
"That makes one."
I giggle at this. This is so absurd! I feel like a complete idiot climbing on this plastic crate in a gym full of thousands of dollars of state of the art equipment. I stare at him, waiting for him to say, "aww, just kidding!" He doesn't. The rest of the guys in the weight room, stare and look at me. (Great.) This has to be some weird kind of gym hazing, right?? Right?!
Tyrese says, "okay, do 74 more. Be sure to start with your right foot, and end with your right foot."
Sheesh. He talks to me like I'm an idiot. Really? Is this what I'm doing today?
12,13,14.....
What a waste.
20, 21...22...
Woah! These are hard.
32................33..............
Holy cow. These crate is high.
44..........................................................
I can't breath!
................51............
Why are my legs shaking? Are we having an earthquake?!?
..........#$%&*!!?##$...........62......................
Must. Not. Stop.
.....74!!!

I collapse on the floor. Tyese comes over to me, nudges me in the ribs with his toe.
"you alive??"

I gasp for air. I need to pee. My nose is running. I want to cry. I have sweat rings under my boobs, armpits, and crotch. (niiiiice). I croak out a sound similar to "yes".

"Good, now do 75 starting with your left leg."






Bastard.