Plodding.
One foot up,
One foot down.
Bend the knee.
How long has it been so far?
Three minutes.
Only 3 minutes?
Seventeen to go.
Can it be done?
Walk the treadmill, they said.
It'll strengthen your heart, they said.
Meanwhile, gravity is a bitch.
Who can lift these legs of steel?
Keep going.
Don't give in to the
overwhelming fatigue...
Thoughts of tired.
A nap beckons.
"Why do you torture yourself?"
Grimly checking the time again.
Eight minutes now.
The bed is smiling coyly.
Inviting treadmill truancy.
Don't give in to comfort.
Don't stop yet.
Thirteen minutes.
Hard to breathe now.
Time to give up?
Try for 5 more minutes.
Why is this like climbing a rock face?
Only 3 minutes more.
You can do this.
Grit your teeth.
And now, it's done.
Where's the dopamine rush?
Not feeling it.
All that's left is relief.
There must be an easier way.
©Ellen Pepper 2025
image credit: freepik.com
Tuesday, 12 August 2025
GRAVITY IS A BITCH
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