HIIT (Heroic Interval Intense Training) — Zeus Approved!

The Rage of Achilles Eases with Life Fitness Machines

Futuristic images make him question the morality of mortals

The nymph Thetis, mother of Achilles, was concerned about her son. His rage was getting out of control. The ADD-anxiety-depression medicinal tonic of ambrosia, colostrum, sheep urine, sulfur, wolf’s milk, virginal vagina juices, and the nocturnal emissions of Athenian boys was not working.

Not even the daily, natural joys of sexual congress with the beautiful, captured Briseis nor his beloved wing-man Patroclus could satiate his temper.

Thetis knew Achilles was bored. He was fighting once again with Agamemnon, feuding with the Achaeans, refusing to fight the Trojans.

For almost a decade, Achilles was in “his bag.”

There were rumors among his Myrmidons that Achilles was growing soft around the belly and flabby in the arms. His notorious B.I.G was rumored to be merely b.i.g. Did it need a whole two hours to return to merely mortal size for additional congress? His chest seemed more the bust of Aphrodite than the six-pack of Hercules.

What would help the greatest warrior in the world?

Thetis chatted with Athena, the goddess of wisdom, over tea and deviled eyes of oxen on Mt. Olympus. Athena suggested Life Fitness Machines, something she could procure from the future that would solve the boredom and flaccidity of Achilles.

Vessels from Phthia arrived in wooden crates. Thetis tied a purple bow around each machine with a note: “Gifts from the gods — Agápi, Mamá.”

Achilles, let’s say, was overjoyed.

This is what he reported in his journal for two weeks:

‘Friends’ and The Treadmill

I know not how these strange images appear on this black glass, nor what strange tongues these oddly clothed, but insanely good-looking humans are saying, but all I can say is someone called Joey makes me laugh. He’s such a donkey’s ass! Why would someone as ravishing as Rachel ever see in such a hard cranium cretin as Horse-Face Ross? The only thing I see as recognizable is a cat — Phoebe’s cat. Do cats exist in the future? I now run fifteen miles on a combination of hills and flat terrain! Gamoto! I don’t see how Joey could ever land another series! Chandler reminds me of Patroclus! Sexy in a boyish, charming way! Is my B.I.G coming back?

‘Fox News’ and Studio Cycle Exercise Bike

My thighs have burned like this before — while running with Patroclus and Chiron on the mountains of Phthia. But I have burned 800 calories in an hour and cycled more than thirty miles all while watching these very white and pasty angry faces yell at each other. Even the hot, blonde women look angry. What are they raging about? Why so much hate? Does my rage look like that?

Did anyone take away their slave whores? Or force these men in black body-bags with red clothe-shaped arrows dangling from flabby necks like a penis to take away their man-boy lovers? I need to switch the button because these images are making me even more full of hate and rage. Although I love this studio cycle, watching this makes my B.I.G want to hide away in a cave with Cyclops!

‘CNN’ and The PowerMill Climber

What does “Breaking News” mean? Whatever it was, it happened all the time here. Especially when it rained. Or when yet another person was “shot” with magic weapons. The squared-haired dudes, all old and gray, and mostly white — not Mediterranean dark and buff like me, talk nonstop. Horrific images — almost every second. Charts and graphs, like I have seen drawn on beaches, filled the screen. What was it all about? Why would anyone watch this? What was the purpose — other than getting me upset?

I have seen blood and death and general nastiness, but these images on this mysterious black portal to another time, made me quake in my Spartan-made running sandals. At least I’m getting a serious workout. Was I actually climbing Mt. Olympus to the heavens? My calves and thighs never felt as tight — but after a half an hour of something called C-N-N- well — there had to be something better to watch and to waste away the time, right?

‘The Price is Right’ and the Recumbent Exercise Bike

I loved the recumbent bike so much, I invited my buddy Patroclus to join on a leisurely ride, as if riding the mountain passes on Phthia. Instead of talking with one another, we viewed a rather strange skene. The audience in the theatron yelled out, but not in anger. Some were selected like warriors to wage battle. But, unfortunately, not against each other. One by one, a combatant would jump on the orchestra and duel against a pasty, white man holding another penis-like object to his mouth, as if for a “Special Treat,” that seemed to project his voice in an even whinier fashion.

What were these warriors trying to do? What were these odd figures? Something like an abacus? And this wheel turned around — making click click clicks like deranged crickets! Was this like the Wheel of Fortune? These mortals — if they be called such things — were not nearly as made-up as whores and eunuchs like Fox and CNN — they seemed much more human, but in a pathetic way, greedy way. We expected these contestants to service the man with the Little B.I.G to get whatever was behind a curtain. We both expected some harem or a regal chariot — but it always seemed like some shiny contraption that couldn’t be used as a torture device or a sexual enhancer. How about a shield? A spear? Golden Fleece!

“What a strange world,” Patroclus said.

“Indeed, my friend!” I said, “But isn’t level 30 a killer? My legs are burning hotter than Helios!”

‘Indeed’ and Lower Body Arc Trainer

Patroclus remained faithfully by my side as I figured out the strange contraption of the lower body arc trainer. Couldn’t directions come in Greek? How does one work this thing? But after a half an hour, we figured it out and tried to watch some lame sporting event called ‘Wimbledon’ where frail men and women in white clothes hit a ball back and forth over a net. These ‘warriors’ talked to themselves all the time, as if possessed by some evil cacodaemon, and the aristocracy in the stands would clap. Clap for what? Did anyone sever a head? Hurl a spear over the ramparts — impaling the target — from two hundred meters away? Steal a golden fleece? Outwit Medusa? Navigate the Sirens? What did these pratts do? Hit a ball over a net?

It seemed ridiculous, but at least it was competitive, unlike CNN and Fox, but the gaming event was interrupted every few grains of sand in an hourglass by some stupid thing called “Indeed.” What was this? Why stop the game? Would they stop the Olympics here in Greece for such stupidity? People looked happy with Indeed? Was it some aphrodisiac?

Both of us had no idea — but we spent the afternoon getting a total cardio workout. Afterwards, we were even too tired for sex or chess, but we used oils and balms to soothe the muscles of one another.

‘Red Bull Snowboarding’ and E3 ELLIPTICAL CROSS-TRAINER

I recognized this game. The game had snow — like the snow I have seen on the tips of mountains in northern Greece — and I was impressed with the wooden boards that seemed to shimmer in the sun. This game seemed riskier — and more fun than running around, grunting, and hitting a green ball back and forth over a net with slave boys in ass-tight shorts, running to fetch a ball. Where did such mountains and snow exist? Would Zeus consider holding a winter Olympics? This event looked knarley and crunchy — words I kept hearing — and who would look better than me — Achilles — shreddin’ the gnar?

It still took a while to figure out the elliptical cross-trainer, but after a hearty week of cross-training, my weight was down, my sex drive was way up, almost back to Olympian levels, and I no longer needed to yell at Agamemnon or seek therapy with Dr. Soranus of Ephesus. Maybe I would even agree to return Briseis. It’s not like I couldn’t get any action for anyone else, right? I’m Achilles. I betcha even Helen would want me, but why start another war?

‘Impractical Jokers’ and TOTAL-BODY ARC TRAINER

I never cackled so hard while working out so hard. Here were four clowns doing stupid stuff and making fools of themselves in public. Some “won” and some “lost,” whatever that meant, but a thumbs down seemed bad. Each one had to do something more inane and stupid than the other guy — and everyone seemed to be having a good time — unlike every other show I had seen on these machines — with the exception of Friends, but they seemed to whine and complain too, and no one actually seemed to work. How could they afford such luxury? Were they gods or lords or kings? What was there to complain about? Were they attacking Troy for nine years? Were they about to die? Were their mother's non-attentive nymph goddesses? Did the fickle gods interfere with their life, too, every second — just on a whim?

Within two weeks of a full day of cardio, diversions, sexual play, and hair stylings and bronzing, I was ready to settle my feud with Agamemnon. I returned Briseis — who actually wasn’t that great, btw. And I readied my Myrmidons to finally attack the walls of Troy, slaughter Priam, Parris, and that brat Aeneas — and change the course of history.

Even better, these machines brought back my arête and B.I.G Diavóitos

Even Zeus and Hera stopped feuding and fooling around with mortals. They were so impressed by such futuristic machinery — and requested Athena, the goddess of wisdom, to get Life Fitness Bikes for all the gods and goddess, with the exception of the glass portal-image-thing that conveyed an age of sheer stupidity and anger.

Ares and Apollo were overjoyed — except Poseidon. He’s such a jerk, right?

It’s obvious these fools of the future have no idea of mens sana in corpore sano — a healthy mind in a healthy body! And that’s strange, too, because how do I know Latin?

Then let me say: Ενα υγιές μυαλό σε ένα υγιές σώμα.

Thank you for reading! More literary humor on Medium from Walter Bowne: