‘Fifty-six…’ and I go up for the next push up with sweat trickling down my arms. “Fifty-seven…” I mutter as I go down, coming up soon after. And then, ‘Fifty-eight…’
The distraction from having a lot on my mind was making me get weary faster than I normally would while exercising. This was the third round of my hundred-a-go push-ups, and on a regular day, it would take until the fourth round before I get this weary. But I cannot seem to handle much of the pressure again.
“Sixty-one..” I grit my teeth while calling out the newest number and then going in accordance with it. If I get through this round then it would be a miracle for me. Why can’t I just get these stupid thoughts out of my mind?
And then my senses suddenly start to tingle but it does not stop me from what I am doing. The tingle wasn’t a call for danger. It was just an alert about a familiar presence around me.
“Can I help you with anything, Beta Leonard?” I have to say after waiting for about five seconds and not hearing anything from the person that has just intruded upon my routine.