Monday, February 8, 2010

It starts.

I'm twenty-seven years old and I'm little closer to being ready than when I was seventeen. I still get winded walking up a flight of stairs, I can't jog more than a mile without rest, can't lift anything larger than my three-year-old above my head. Forget shooting robots and climbing fences. When Judgement Day comes, I'm totally and completely screwed.
It's enough.
My Sarah Connor survival training begins today. No scales, no measuring tapes. Just good old-fashioned running, lifting, robot shooting, and tourniquet tying.
I'm not totally sure how to start.
Do chin-ups on her up-turned institution issue bed, and act leery of her iMac.

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