For several years the most demanding physical activity I undertook was getting out of the bed in the morning. I wasn’t proud of it, but neither was I ashamed. Yes, I do admit that I’m terribly lazy, but no I don’t plan on doing anything about it. Why should I go out in order to enjoy nature when I can do it comfortably stretched on my couch with a nature documentary on the TV? Why should I walk to get my food when I can order it in? After years of my living like that I wasn’t exactly someone who you would call ‘slim’ or ‘fit’.
And I was fine with that until I started having problems breathing and I felt, even at the slightest of exertions, that my heart was trying to jump out of my chest.Well that’s when I started to get worried, I went to see a doctor and he told me that if I didn’t want to die at tender age of 26 that I’ll have to get some exercise. He even used the word ‘obesity’ which I considered really tactless, but I still decided to take his advice.I asked a friend of mine who is constantly in the gym to come with me and show me the ropes. He said he’ll do it if I promise not to eat them.
He’s funny like that. So we went to the gym. He told me to warm up, I answered that I didn’t need that, he told me that I should start with lighter weights I said that I’m not here to rest but to exercise, he told me to straighten my back I suggested that he should go to hell. In that second I felt the pain in my shoulder and dropped the weight.It turns out I pulled a muscle, he was trying to tell me that, but I couldn’t hear him over my screaming. He took me to the doctor who prescribed Vicodin. I took one then and there. By the time we were in the car I could already feel it taking effect. I don’t know what I would have done without it; I continued taking it as long as I felt any discomfort in the shoulder. The relief I felt the first time I took it was almost worth the injury. But just to be safe, I’m trying stay away from gyms since then.