Post Image I have spent thirty three years trying to do a lot of things. Among those: avoiding sweat.

Even during periods of time when I was active and fit, my exercise of choice was swimming. Yes, you sweat when you swim (a rather gross concept that I advise you avoid thinking about) but being surrounded by cool water, you don't notice it as much.

Even now that I am On Plan, I wouldn't be exercising except for one thing: I have to. Yes, I have to. I work for an institution that employs nearly 6,000 people. Since I have been at my job for under a year, I am still a peon in the eyes of the Great Parking Authority. Translation: it is exactly a mile from the closest "legal" parking space allowed by my permit to my chair. A mile. One way. I measured it. Yup.

That is two miles per day, plus another mile worth of errands. And I hate it. I hate every step. As the ninty plus degree days of the Texas Summer are already here, hiking to the car gets tougher. By the time I get to my vehicle at the end of the day, I'm huffing like a waterbuffalo in labor and the condition of my backside rivals that of a few landmark swamps. It is not a pretty site and it does not improve as get the air conditioning going in my car while sitting on leather seats that have been absorbing the heat all day.

It has been theraputic to whine about the discomfort, so I hope that you at least found it amusing. Maybe someday I will find a method of sweat-production that I enjoy. Until then, I will have to suffer through my hikes to and from the parking lot and reap the benefits of the forced marches every Tuesday morning at weigh-in.

Go ahead, you can pity me!