When I told my friend Doug that I wanted him to destroy us with workouts leading up to the Hawaii Salsa Festival, I was joking.
Then he handed us all waiver forms.
“What is this?” I asked. “You think I’m going to sue you?”
“No. But your family might.”
“What exactly are you making us do?”
He just smiled his polite, tight-lipped smile. That was my cue to worry. Doug is a performer/teacher in the company, an aerospace engineer, a certified personal trainer and our punisher for the weeks leading up to our big show.
He’s given us carefully devised meal plans and spreadsheets detailing weight training. He tells us that our lunges are not low enough, our planks not straight enough. All in his carefree, encouraging tone of voice. Meanwhile, we spit vitriol in his face and give up, collapsing on the floor, limbs splayed, chests heaving.
Doug means serious business (as indicated by the waiver). This is no laughing matter. Literally. It hurts my abs to laugh.