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 Why?
The guys at work question me on why I go to the gym?
Why do I pummel my body when I could have a beer?
Why do I sweat and strain, why the pain, what do I ever gain?
Why?
Good question, I say.
It is not to stop the sands of time, for that is not possible.
It is not to become some beefcake old guy, a freak of nature.
No, it is not even to add a year or two to my life in the end.
Why, then, do you struggles so? They ask.
Because I love the feel of my muscles moving in rhythm.
I love the sweat beads burning my eyes.
I love the burning deep inside my thighs and arms.
I love to simply feel alive!
Feeling my breath quicken.
Peaceful sensations sweep across my being.
I am alive… that's why.
23Dec08
Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades
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