Certificate Wanted

My session with the personal trainer was rescheduled to this morning. As much as I joke about being scared to work out, I had to bite the bullet and actually go first thing this morning. The torturer trainer put me through a series of push ups and sit ups to test my endurance, that brought back horrible memories of my elementary days when I dreaded the ominous President’s Physical Fitness Test. Nothing struck fear in me as much as those four horrible words. I hated the test because I could never pass it, due to the lack of strength in my scrawny arms as I attempted the pull ups. The laps around the track never went much better either as I wheezed my way along until I would suffer the inevitable side stitch that would end my chances for the coveted prize– a laminated certificate signed by Ronald Regan, himself. No, I would never have descrived myself as athletic or even active. But times they are a changin’ and I may be able to do a pull up soon. I wonder how many I need to do to get a certificate signed by Dubya?