does this count?

Friday night and by 8pm I really needed a break, so I headed down to the practically empty gym. I use the gym several times a week, at my convenience. This late on a Friday I had my run of the place. Did my jump-rope and 8MA this morning before breakfast, so I went straight into the leg workout before tackling the monster back exercises. Tried to absolutely not cheat on the pull-ups: grip wide and thumbs out, I let myself hang completely down before pulling up. I think I got my chest up close enough to the bar to call it maximum motion three times. The rest of the forty were an exercise in failure. Interestingly, as awesome it would be to impress the lone hottie on the stair-master behind me by knocking out ten fully extended pull-ups near effortlessly, ala Patrick, such a massive testosterone display would not actually do me much good.
The whole point of doing four sets of ten is to fail, tearing muscle fiber, forcing it to rebuild bigger and stronger.
I must admit, I do not like counting reps. I really, really hate counting 1500 jumps. I lose focus, skip, double-count, and end up thinking more about what number I am on than what my muscles and body are doing.
I like that Patrick said to just keep the burn and go to failure on every last set. Much more fun.
I think soon we will graduate from counting jumps too. I am much looking forward to setting the kitchen timer and letting my brain do whatever as I spin New Hotness endlessly.
NOT counting to me is an important concept - just jumping, pulling, pushing, whatever, be it the first, fiftieth, or five thousandth. One of the things I love about the sword in which I train is that it was founded by a bit of an oddball who was both a reknowned samurai and a respected zen philosopher. He called his art "moving zen", and it has a simple yet intense focus of purpose that I get really into when I train.
And sometimes, on that last kung-fu sit-up, I do not think about the number of sets, the minutes on the clock, how much work I have left nor how little sleep I got. I suck air in, push air out, feel the callous on the base of my right middle finger, hear my pulse in my ears, taste my sweat dripping past my lip. And I just lift my legs, I am my abdominal muscle, struggling to curl, pulling against gravity squeezing tighter and tighter, starving for oxygen and ripping and burning for a forever moment to moment that never ends...I cannot think of a more fun and satisfying way to spend a Friday night!