exercise...oh dear.

i learned in biology that Michael Phelps has a huge advantage over other swimmers. one reason is his body type. he has short legs and a very long torso along with long arms. i am built much the same way. Michael Phelps also produces less lactic acid or something like that so he doesn't get sore or tired from exercise to the extent normal people do. seeing as we are practically the same and whatnot, i thought maybe i might be able to endure large quantities of hardcore physical exertion and be none the worse for wear. how little i knew. how little i knew.

i had spent an entire four days celebrating my birthday. thursday with family, friday with one group of friends, saturday with yet another and then sunday by treating myself to a day of enjoyment. naturally, all of these festivities involved copious amounts of food. so as monday rolled around, i felt compelled to eat right and do a bit of exercise to appease the gods of guilt.

i began by plugging into my new iPod and briskly walking through the woods behind my house. after the first couple hills, i was starting to feel the burn in my legs but it was miniscule and my breathing was only somewhat ragged. at the bottom of a particularly vile hill, having gained considerable momentum, i proceeded to break into a brisk jog. i was forced to use one hand to hold up my now falling sweatpants as i puffed up the next hill. it wasn't so bad. i was breathing heavy but it wasnt that atrocious. i tuned into Matt Costa who was singing me into distraction. after only a short spurt of my jogging, i began to feel the effects. it wasn't killing me just yet. but still. i had to stop ahead at a creek that impeded my flight path. so i began to slow down, when i stopped at the creek a bus hit me.

i was dead. i could barely step across the creek. my breath was trying to murder me for being so viciously cruel. my legs wobbled and wept bitterly, trying to guilt trip me for what i'd done to them. my heart was trying to burst my eardrums and my organs were commencing a riot. i tremulously started walking again, only half the man i once was. the fast paced music seemed to mock my weakness and insufficient pace. i finished out the time i had set ( a tragically short amount which i am unwilling disclose) and crashed on the sofa in a heap of sweat and tears. a shell of the person i started out as.