Damn you, fellas with neon-yellow- and hot-pink-eared poodles who go along the mountain trails without a drop of sweat in sight, whilst I leave a veritable trail of stinky dew behind.
Damn you, teenaged couple who, having reached the top, do not take ten minutes to stop dripping and catch you breath but immediately start snapping cute pictures of one another.
Damn you, middle-aged guy selling the Coke and Gatorade up at the top. I know you haul that stuff, and then down, every damned weekend.
Damn you, heavyset middled-aged women who reach the top peak without a look of strain but instead with laughter in your eyes and upon your lips. I know very well you are not laughing at me, but I’m tired, and my legs hurt, and it annoys me anyway.
Folks, the warning sign I got during my staff physical was unmistakable: exercise, or get sick. I’m not sick now, but if I don’t get my health under control, I will be. So this time, it will not be one of those attempts that falls by the wayside, because this is serious now. My diet isn’t so bad, except maybe occasionally heavy salt intake, but it’s uneven, and I’ve gotten way too little sleep in the last year. So I will get a good night’s sleep from now on. This is one of my pledges to myself.
Another is that sooner or later, I’m going to give those little old ladies on the mountainside a run for their money.
It’s time to get this thing going on.