I open my eyes.  4:30 am.  Perfect.  I stretch and turn off my alarm as I say a prayer to the Virgin Mary.  It’s another day as a member of the Detroit Falcons, the greatest franchise in SMJHL history.  After my prayer it is time for breakfast.  In order to maintain my 190-pound frame with my level of activity I must eat 6,000 calories a day.  Breakfast?  That’ll be a dozen eggs and eight pieces of whole wheat toast.  I fucking hate eggs.  After having them every day for 4 straight years, there are only so many ways to make them interesting.  This morning it’s a shitload of salt and a little Sriracha.  By the time I force that meal down, it is time for my daily run.  “Fuck.” I mutter under my breath as I realize its Saturday.  That means its 20 miles today.  I take my phone off the charger and put in my headphones.  Time to find a podcast.  “Fucking ridiculous.” as I scroll through thousands of podcasts.  I can’t make up my mind so I guess it will be a random playlist.  


        As my feet hit the pavement and the breeze hits my face, I take a deep breath in and begin to day dream.  A third of the way through my run I always pass a house with a dog in the front yard.  “Here we go” I say to myself, as my time to shine draws near.  I see the dog on the porch at the same time as he sees me.  As we lock eyes he sprints to the fence.  We begin to bark at each other furiously while I continue to run by.  The neighbors here have to hate me since it is still before 6 am.  I continue the run making a 20-mile loop back to my trailer then kick off my shoots outside the door.  I walk in to grab my gym bag and leave to the Falcon’s facilities to get a light lift in.  Saturday, just like every day, is leg day.  After putting my shoes back on, I hop in my rusted out El Camino and turn the key.  The engine fires right up, I click it before I ticket, and I get on the road. 

        I pull up to the facilities and see Brenda as I walk in.  “Hey Brenda” I blurted in her general direction.  “Ty, in for a quick lift today?” said Brenda as I walked by.  “Way she goes Brenda; fucking way she goes”.  I get down to the weight room and I walk to the squat rack.  I put on my max weight straight away, as warm up sets are for hypertrophy debutantes.  I feel the bar bend and the weight bounce as I unrack the weights.  Damn, that is a lot of weight.  I do my squats, then it’s on to the deadlift pads.  Stiff bar deadlifts only in this gym, that deadlift bar shit is not for the Falcons.  I’m almost done with my deadlift sets as Kermit Murphy (@notorioustig) walks in the weight room.  He looks as me as I nod to him. He does one box jump then rips a wet fart before leaving the weight room.  God that guy is fucking weird.  I finish my deadlifts and move to the leg press.  Super setting calf raises is the only way.  I finish up my workout and think about showering.  “I shouldn’t.” I say as we are about to have a team practice. 

      I head to the locker room and start to lace up the skates for today’s practice.  The team shuffles in and we all get ready.  The first round bye has been nice but we are all ready to get back out on the ice.  Coach is drawing out Quebec City’s common plays as we all take a knee and pay attention.  It’s going to be a tough series and we all know it.  We run a few team drills then we get into individual skills drills.  It’s a light practice since coach needs us rested for Monday.  We run our drills then start to shoot the shit as we skate off the ice.  I take off my gear and head to the parking lot before driving home.

      I get home and begin to prepare my second meal of the day.  Four chicken thighs grilled and drenched in barbecue sauce, with a side of navy beans mixed with bacon.  I log my meal into my calorie counting app before exclaiming “Fuck!”.  I can never hit my carbs for the day.  I walk to the computer and research carb shortage advice on 90’s bodybuilding forums.  The first answer I see seems reasonable, as user BigTraps69 tells me to “just eat a bowl of cereal you fucking idiot, carbs are the easiest thing to eat”.  I just don’t like sugar, man, I don’t know. 

      I log out and do a little stretch, I’m exhausted and think about taking a nap.  Too bad naps are for the weak.  I get my Colt 1911 out from under my pillow and head to the back of my lot to see if my neighbor jerry wants to pop a few shots off in with me.  As I walk out I see Jerry is loaded and sitting next to eighteen empty beer cans.  “Hey Jerry,” I giggled, “want to help me keep rent low?”.  Jerry’s eyes opened wide and he hit me with a “Hell yeah brother!”.  It is crucial to blow off steam, we’re only human.  You’d be surprised as to how much stress goes away from shooting around in the back yard with your hammered neighbor. 

      I empty my seven round magazine and thank Jerry for the company as I head back into my trailer.  I turn on my laptop and look for a movie to stream.  I pirated “Gone with the Wind” yesterday, what ever happened to the film genre of Epic’s anyway?  I mean you maybe could make a case for the “Lord of the Rings” trilogy being an epic if you combined all the movies, but other than that when is the last time anyone actually made an Epic?  These thoughts anger me as I close my computer and begin to meditate. 

      After a few hours of meditation, it is time to make my third and final meal.  I heat up some oil before taking the four catfish I caught yesterday out of the fridge.  I filet the catfish then proceed to organize my wet wash and dry rub to fry them in.  I drop a little of the wet wash into my cornmeal before seasoning the dry mix thoroughly.  That’s the secret to beautifully fried fish, it makes little clumps in the dry stuff that stick to the fish.  Fucking phenomenal is what it is.  I put the fish in the wet then in the dry then in the oil.  I have a side of mashed potatoes loaded with butter and other stuff that people tell me is bad for you.  I don’t care, I am young and invincible.  Nothing will stop Ty Murphy.  I finish cooking and let my food cool as I begin to eat.  “Jesus”, I pray, “no matter what they always just kind of taste like mud”.  I think about getting a dog but quickly brush it off as I am not ready for that responsibility in my life. 

      I shotgun a beer before lying down to hit the hay.  I say my third and final prayer for the day while thinking about Bill Burr’s take on going to church.  I believe he said something along the line of “God is everywhere but I gotta go down there to see him?  He’s angry at me down there and I owe him money? Fuck that.”.  I tend to agree, if He is all knowing then he knows how I feel about him and my faith.  These are the thoughts that carry me into my deep slumber, before waking up and doing it all again.


1366 words, 2x media bonus

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