To the Man on the Stairmaster

To the Man on the Stairmaster beside me this evening,

I’ve taken the time to jot down a transcript of your speech this evening.  You looked pretty intent on what you were doing, well, too intent to make notes yourself anyway, so I figured I’d do it for you.  I apologize that it is mainly in a sort of plebian onomatopoeia, a plebomatopoebian dialect if you will, but it seemed most appropriate vehicle to capture not only the wordage of your oratory, but the spirit of the subject matter as well.

Yours,
Guy Next To You

“Ungh.  Mmmmmmfff.  Mfff.  Mfff.  Ohh.  Oooh.  Ooh.  Ooh.  Mfff.  Yeah.  Ooh.  Mfff.  Fffffhhhhh.  Omphhh.  Mffff.  C’mon.  Mfff.  Mfff.  Ooh.  Ooh.  C’mon.  Mfff.  Ooh.  Ooh.  Ooh.  Ooh. Ooh.  Ooh.  Mff.  Fffffhhhh.  Fffffffffffffffffffhhh.  Ooh.  Ooh.  Yeah.  Yeah.  Ungh.  Ungh.  Mfff.  Ooh.   Ooh, mfff.  Mfff.  Fffffffhhh.  Four and a half.  Mmmfff.  Ungh, ungh, ungh. Mfff — yeah. Ooh.  Ooh.  Ooh.  God, yeah, mfff.”

Getting back in the “swing”

Word to the wise:

After a six month “hiatus” from working out, do not assume you will be able to run three consecutive eight-minute miles on a breakfast of banana pancakes.

The only conclusions the testing of this assumption will lead to:
- you are out of shape
- you are an idiot