I am taking an interval class this morning. I don't know for sure what I'm getting myself into. I believe Atheist-Friend started sensing my hesitation last night and dangled the old, "you can use it for your blog" carrot in front of me. For public record, here is an exact lead-up to my imminent demise:
Atheist-Friend: Walk tomorrow morning (Sunday)? We could walk past a church.
Me: Joe is at 2nd job tomorrow. Monday?
Atheist-Friend: You can come with me to my 9:45 class tomorrow. You'll be home by 11 (Joey's return time).
Me: What kind of class is this?
Atheist-Friend: Interval. You'll be fine. Light weights and a low step. Did you try the potatoes? (Atheist-Friend had given me a container of "smashed potatoes" and a bag of home-made chocolate chip cookies the night before).
Me: I had a bite, but the cookies distracted me. What's interval? Do I need to be coordinated? I am not coordinated. So not coordinated. Like, anti-coordinated.
Atheist-Friend (email dripping with sarcasm): I've never noticed your lack of coordination before.
It was lovely knowing you all. Feel free to add your own comments to my online obituary.
Interval training indeed.