This is what happens when you swap your workout for PT
SUMMARY
If you're a suburban mom in Iowa, your PT is a Cruiser.
If you're a tumbler in the circus, your PT is a Barnum.
And if you're an aspiring Industrial Age robber baron played by Daniel Day Lewis, your PT is an Anderson.
But if you served in the military, your PT is an acronym, meaning Physical Training. And your PT comes with a silent F, which might officially stand for "fitness," but back on testing days, probably stood for an f-word you used frequently to grumble and bitch.
In the service, PT sucks. That goes without saying. And yet, as a civilian, you're still doing it. Nowadays, you do PT voluntarily and brag about your preferred brand to anyone who will listen. You pay $100/month for a nice, clean place (close to work!) to do it in. You pay someone extra to play your drill instructor, someone who's motivational but not too mean. Let's face it. You have become
enmired in hypocrisy
And there's only one man who can pull you free.
Max doesn't do PT, he is PT. He's Physically Titanic, Proactively Tactical, Pyrotechnically Triumphant, and Proudly Terse. He's a Prehensile Tyrannosaurus with Possible Telekinesis and a full Power Train warranty. Also, he will Put a Trace on your phone if you try to weasel out of this workout.
In this episode, Max is sending you back to PT. No frills. No gym. No equipment. No excuses. Just minute after minute of good old fashioned body weight conditioning drills stacked up in supersets for you to grovel and bitch your way through .
Welcome back to Performance Testing, Puddy Tat.
Watch as Max casually bats aside your nonsense, in the video embedded at the top.
