The zombie outbreak started while you were in the gym, which seemed particularly fortuitous as you bashed in your personal trainer's head with the end of the curl bar. The abundant supply of blunt objects, the heavy doors secured with electronic locks, cool water fountains and - of course - easy access to fitness equipment appeared to be a nearly ideal stronghold against the legions of the dead mustering in the outside world.
Two months later, though, and a steady diet of protein powder and sports drinks has wreaked havoc on your psyche, to say nothing of your digestive system.
While you've made steady gains in your lifts over the past several weeks, some exercises simply don't have the appeal they used to. A few swings with the sledgehammer on the tire was once a great way to relieve stress, but now you see the half-rotted faces gnashing their teeth at you instead of benign black rubber. The treadmill has lost its allure: feels too much like running for your life. Deadlifts are right out.
You used to worry over going to the gym; now you're terrified of ever having to leave. Irony in the chapel of iron.