Hate is a strong word. But I hate exercising. It aint’ as bad as eating healthy, but that son of a witch is runnin’ a close second. Now granted, I always feel accomplished and much better when I’m done, but the process itself sucks, in its entirety. Difficulty breathing, the feeling of death coming upon me, the inability to walk properly, and trouble using my arms are not conditions that make me say “yeah, that sounds like fun”. And there’s literally no good time to do it. If I choose the morning, I’ve gotta get up at the butt crack of dawn. And I if I choose to do it after work, happy hour always sounds more appealing around 4:37. If you grew up a ballplayer, the idea of exercising without said ball is wiggity, wiggity, wiggity whack. Big shout outs to all my people running 5ks and half/full marathons. And all my lifters like Adrian Hill gettin’ their gainz in the gym. You people have something in you that will never fester in me. Y’all the real MVP’s.
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