It seethes with aches and strains.
The toxins from the weekend
Still raging through my veins.
The urge for some punishment
Can be seen in my eyes
It comes from deep within me,
Despite my plaintive cries.
I love a PT session,
A smashing pure and plain,
Of cardio and circuit,
Of crawling through the rain.
I love pushing false limits,
I love just running free,
The horror of the sandpit –
Forever haunting me!
A dusty red-dirt track
Mocks the grips on my feet,
The blue sky of Cerberus,
Tempts me to join the fleet.
Swimming doesn’t seem so bad,
Compared to land’s toil,
And at the rate I’m running
I’ll never leave the soil.
Soft to the core, dear Leader!
I slow down with a sigh,
We’ve only got one lap done,
We’re dropping just like flies –
But if we come together,
And all get up again
Our feet might just keep moving,
We’re forging through the pain.
Push-up position ready!
On ground so hard and cold,
My abs begin complaining,
Tales better left untold –
Upon the grassy oval,
I dream of better days,
I long for boot camp fitness
My body now, it pays.
A good old-fashioned caning,
Not so lovingly planned –
Nought to it but to do it,
Some just won’t understand –
Though it’s all in a day’s work,
Some just can’t believe why,
I’m addicted to feeling
Like I’m about to die.
(with apologies to Dorothea Mackellar)
No comments:
Post a Comment