“I manage to straighten my legs, and I desperately want to lower them and release the strain. I start to do just that… “Hold it there for me, Ben,” Cheyenne says. “For ten seconds. That’s all. Ten seconds. You can do it, I know you can.” But I can’t. I’m a fucking pussy, and it hurts. I try, though. I shake all over, sweat sluicing down my face. I strain, and a growl escapes me as I fight the urge to let the weight go. “…nine…eight…seven…six! Keep it up, Ben! Five more seconds, come on!”... She’s kneeling beside me, her voice patient and encouraging as always. My leg trembles, and the pain in my ruined knee is so bad I could almost cry. “I can’t—fuck, I can’t. I gotta let it go.” I start to lower the leg press, but my knee gives out. And Cheyenne is there, catching the weight and lowering it. I slide to a sitting position, grab my right leg near the knee and lift it over the bench, and then collapse forward, elbows on my thighs, gasping. The most pathetic thing about this?MoreLessRead More Read Less
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