So how far can you go? – Slimming down for beginners.

Sooner or later every man asks himself the same question, I bet: How far can I go? How much am I worth? How much can I stand? (And sometimes people ask themselves: How fat have I grown? How much do I weight? How long can I stand? But those are other people, of course... *g*)

Today I prefer to sit. After exploring (and obviously extremely extravagating) my limits two days ago, my calf muscles still ache, my little left toe seems damaged beyond repair. I think I will never be the same again. (Nothing to do with my shape, of course. No, I don’t eat too much chocolate. This body is in perfect condition! (It's the hat! ^^))

So how far can I go? Where are my limits? And how do I surpass them best? That depends, of course, on the discipline.

If I had to walk, for example, I could choose to walk off Phuket Island now. From Chalong that would be some mere 50km (that is, if you walk into the right direction, of course. If not, you will have drowned long before you get anywhere near the sarasin bridge… ^^). But 50km? Fifty? Tzzz… That’s a sissies’ choice.

If I had to run, however, I could participate in the Self-Transcendence 3100 Mile Race, the world's longest certified footrace (If you trust Wikipedia, that is. I personally believe Wikipedia is a great and highly trustworthy source). Sounds a bit more challenging at first, but then again, runners only run around in (5.649) laps circling an extended city block in Queens, New York. And they have 52 days to complete the distance! Probably a bit too boring, after all. (Oh, and, according to Wikipedia, in which we all should trust, a lady is the only person who completed every single race on time so far. So I think this is rather for girls.)

I’m not a girl. I’m a man! A real man! So I declined to walk. And declined to run. I decided to jump. Over a rope. A pink rope. That’s intense. Really intense. And only for men. Real men!

I jumped. And jumped. And jumped. And jumped again… It must have been ages! My heart started pumping, my breath accelerated, my muscles tightened… I skipped and skipped and skipped my pink rope. I skipped this bloody pink rope so often, if I would keep writing “and skipped” for every single time I skipped the rope … oh. I'm almost there. ^^

Within 15 minutes I lay flat on my bed, sweat dripping out of every single last pore from my body, my heart beating faster than any Techno beat I have heard to this date, my lungs trying to inhale all the oxygen this atmosphere has to offer – I was entirely depleted.

After the following hour of near-death experience and three bars of chocolate I finally managed to raise an arm. Only a few minutes and two more chocolate bars later the other arm followed, and I could drag me out of my bed to my computer to calculate the immense amount of calories I had burned.

 Maybe I should have simply stayed in bed. The amount of calories I had burned equaled – one chocolate bar… ^^ (Then again, that’s what Wikipedia says. And who the heck trusts an open-source encyclopedia?)

So for the last two days I successfully taxed my brain to find a solution to this massive dilemma. Some people say eating fruit helps. Good call.

My answer is even simpler – today I only sit on my pink rope and just eat chocolate bars. Maybe even only one… ;)

 

Hey - it's my birthday in only 52 days. Have you bought a present yet?