The adrenaline flows through my veins.
The coffee twitches in my fingers, the music shakes my synapses.
I have a date with a heart attack, and it’s not going to be dinner and a movie.
This spinning machine will make my muscles clean.
The numbers count down to my defeat, miles per hour the enemy.
It’s me against myself, the ultimate duel.
My organs scream and beg for it to cease, but my ambition laughs in their face.
I grip the handles, look to the sky and push on.
It’s when we step accross the boundry that we find ourselves face to face with our enemy.
The liquid cancers, the soot infested smoke, and the fat engulfed arteries fear for their lives.
I grit my teeth, my muscles tense and trembling.
Even my breath speaks of retreat, yet I refuse all defeat.
My soul, ammunition.
My mind, the gun.
My body, the bullet.
The trigger lifted, the countdown ended.
I walk away.
Limping yet triumphant.
My right knee throbs of pain, my lungs struggle, and my heart throws itself through my rib cage.
Today was a good work out.
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