Exercise is Evil

The act was impulsive. I quickly grabbed clothes fit for the task, grabbed my sister's running shoes and a teeny, tiny pair of foot socks. Then I walked towards the sports center, paid my dues and then walked among the fit folk. It wasn't awkward, loud dance music was blasting from the speakers as an aerobics class sweated itself out and people ran or walked or jogged. I started jogging then running for about halfway through then stopped to walk then run again. It was a pattern repeated until the back of my foot, chafed from   the lack of protection the teeny, tiny foot socks gave was wounded and I had to stop and examine the pink, opened layer of skin. Undaunted, I ran again until I could take it no more. This whole episode lasted about 30 minutes...I'm lying, it might have been 20. I stopped for a while to people watch which is very entertaining and a while lasted into minutes of just watching until I decided to go home. And eat. A lot. So I ate and my sisters were flabbergasted at the idea of me actually exercising. Flabbergasted. Then I did 10 sit-ups, ten! And then I had to lie down because my poor body could take no more and surrendered to aching pains which still bothers me 24 hours after that episode of running. Ouch.