25 Days of Cripmas: Forward, March!

It's the truth. It's the God's-honest, scout's-honor truth. I do this. I'll be having a bad body day, everything will be hurting, I'll be at the point where I just want to pitch myself on the floor and kick and scream like a giant 2 year old, and then I imagine some of the people I know being forced to do what I do every day, and suddenly I'm giggling and feeling superior.

Sissies. They couldn't handle this. I imagine myself as a drill sergeant, yelling at the limp-armed pansies to push themselves up the hill faster, dammit! You have 5 minutes to get to class and your scooter just quit? Figure it out, whiner! Your class is up 3 flights of stairs and the Registrar won't move it? Buck up and crawl up them! Ah, yes. I would make an excellent trainer of pseudo-cripples. I could run my very own boot camp.

This could be glorious.