Sweat it out

Your ass cheeks clapped against your hamstrings as you made stride after stride after stride after stride after stride. Left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right. Over and over. It was monotonous. It was painful.

You could feel the calories burning off your love handles, the swing of your belly decreasing, the wagon you lugged around was lightening. You felt more fit, more agile. One, two, three, four, five… your less five steps crossing the finish line at eleven minutes and fifty seconds. But you felt more active than before. This type of thing was going to be easier.