Proof That Not Everyone in the Gym Knows What They’re Doing
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By Angeline Smith
Tater Treadmill Time
Mr. Potato Head didn’t come here to play. He came to shred… starch. There he is, casually power-walking on the treadmill like it’s a Tuesday morning and his cholesterol just got a warning from the doctor. The little red nose is focused, and that plastic mustache is unbothered. His detachable arms? Well, it’s giving more form than half the gym.
Not a single person is batting an eye, either. Just another day where a giant walking vegetable is clocking in his steps like it’s totally normal. If a literal potato can commit to cardio, then so can the rest of us—no more excuses, mashed or otherwise.
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