Today is the day all you mouth-breathing soft bodies cop a big load of Troy’s protein-fueled inspiration.
The City2Surf is the Perth fitness communities premier event where running skins are stained with the unpalatable sweat of unadulterated smuggery.
It is an event that proves, the pursuit of health is not fueled by calories burned, but by the number of self-validating likes on social media.
The most important part of Troy’s preparation has not been the meal prep selfies, nor has it been the intense greasy leers he shoots at Jacob’s Ladder slurries on Saturday mornings. No, the most vital step is the pre-City2Surf Instagram photo of his running clothes, drink bottle, iPod and shoes all laid out in a shit-eating way that you’d swear came from a Cunt-ry Road catalogue. “Aint going to let the rain dampen my run, this isn’t my first rodeo ;) #city2surf #fitspo #candidrunningpic #skins #perth #feelinglazynow? #halfmarathon #girlslikeguyswhorun #god #hero”.
Troy arrives at the starting line early to doll out unasked running advice to the myriads of Lululemon-clad babes who bubble around like duck faced porn starlets on an extras feature of Girls Gone Wild. He slides up to a girl wearing far too much makeup for a run and fires off some of his trademark bum-pinch charm, “olive oil”. She looks up at Troy’s punchable face, “huh?” Troy gestures towards his chest, “bitta olive oil on the nips, and no chafe, I’ve brought some if you need?”
After sexually harassing a number of other candy-bootied stunners, he decides to finally do some stretches and prepare. He forces a nearby beta-male to take a photo of him while he is “getting into his zone”. Troy flexes every muscle possible and stares into space with the sort of intensity of a man on the brink of a shameful premature ejaculation. “Make sure it’s set to a black & white filter, blokeo”. After 5 attempts,Troy is happy with the shot, “Focused. driven. elite. Come at me bro! Personal best in sight! #bullbythehorns #enjoylookingatmyarse #turndownforwhat #pro #fitness #city2surf #lordjesuschrist”.
Troy smashes the pavement like a deranged personal trainer high on crystal meth. In between his over the top breathing techniques, he is squawking motivation zingers at the red faced, asthmatic plodgers who are honoured to run beside Thor… sorry,Troy.
He crosses the line and starts fist pumping and hollering like Tom Waterhouse when he sees one of his ad comes on the television. He then crams a cycling goo-tube into his face while he takes a sweaty photo of his heart monitor that proudly displays his time, “personal best #whathaveyouachievedlately? #boombaby #yew #lifebeinit #halfmarathon #herbalife #fitness #nobleprizeforsickcuntery”.
As a depressing requiem to his #lovemylife shit-show,Troy heads home to sit by himself and desperately hit refresh on his social media accounts. When you wield positivity like an ego-sword, then you should expect good people to shield themselves from your smug fuckery.