I think the title is pretty self-explanatory. I’ve started working out!

Now, if you’re picturing something like this,

Weight-lifter

 

STOP, because I am in awful shape right now and would die if I tried some shit like that.

But anyway, I do want to get some regular exercise in because that stuff is important, you know? Also, I need to bulk up if I’m ever going to become a professional wrestler.

Look at this guy. I look nothing like that.

Look at this guy. I look nothing like that.

So, because I can’t step out the door without having an adventure, I figured I’d chronicle my path to greatness here on this blog for you all to enjoy.

Day 1

I checked the weather the day before, and next to a big ass picture of a sun were the numbers, ’84.’ 84 flippin’ degrees. Just great.

GREAT FOR DYING.

GREAT FOR DYING.

But I figured, hey, the hotter the better. I’ll sweat away the laziness. I headed over to a big ass steep hill a few blocks away from my house. I started sweating just walking over there, which didn’t bode well.

I jogged up and down the massive hill three times, and then walked for another six blocks or so to the bank, (to get some banking done).  On my way back from the bank, I felt a few drops of rain, which of course turned into a fucking twenty-minute monsoon, most of which I spent huddled inside of a bodega, sheepishly avoiding eye contact with the guy at the counter.

I'd say this is a pretty accurate image of what it looked like outside.

I’d say this is a pretty accurate image of what it looked like outside.

After the rain finally let up, I ran my ass home. I had wanted to trek up the hill a few more times, but I didn’t want to get caught in the rain again.

When I got home, my dad welcomed me by asking, “Why don’t you just run on the treadmill?”

WHAT A FOOL HE IS. The treadmill is really scary. Running on it makes me feel like it’s gonna fall through the floor any second. Who needs that?

Secret death trap.

Secret death trap.

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