While we were in Michigan, my sister hired a personal trainer to come to the house and give us a workout. The personal trainer's name was Duncan and he was chiseled.
The first day that he came by, I was eagerly thinking, "I can do this ... I can so totally do this!" so I did it and the next day I couldn't really do much of anything except breathe because every inch of me hurt. The next time Duncan came to the house, I'd been up the night before thinking I might die from a raging virus, so I took a pass on bringing that thought of dying to fruition right there on my sister's front lawn. As for the rest of the group, they subjected themselves to another round of torture while my mother and I sat in comfy chairs and took pictures. Here's the group is scrambling as fast as they could up and down the hill like crabs. Oh, this might look easy enough ... but trust me, it's not. Especially the 12th time you do it.
Here's the group with beach towels, saturated with lake water, that they had to vigorously swing around...
... and then toss to each other.
The first group started to run in the water - raising their knees above the water line, while the second group had to pick up the pace on their towel saturation - throwing exercise, before shifting locations with the first group.
Then they ran around the sand, sped walk across the dock, jumped in to the water, and did some kind of alternating exercise of jumping and swishing before they did another lap.
They dug deep holes in the sand using their forearms, and then made piles of sand in a circular motion, before smoothing it out and digging more holes, 'round and 'round.
After 45 straight minutes of this fitness fun, they wrapped it up by doing several dozen donkey kicks and jump push-ups in the water.
When they finished everyone showed off their biceps and shouted, "Bodies by Duncan!!" So I held up my not-quite-so-impressive bicep and shouted back, "I have a body by Dunkin, too. DUNKIN DONUTS!"
It was quite funny at the time, but now it sounds kind of pathetic.