The Personal Trainer’s Tale

I became or was made redundant. I had neither purpose nor direction. Not up nor down, nor left nor right.

My only possessions, a whip and a wooden chair, which happened to be so light that one might pick it up and brandish it with one hand, and a bicycle that went nowhere. The whip had been bequeathed to me by my great aunt who had been a gaucho. What could I do, what were my options. I decided to become a Personal Trainer. I could not at first afford the traditional pleated skirt and pink felt hat of e professionals, but I determined to work hard at and earn their derision.

At first my clients were very fierce; it was only by cracking my whip and waving my chair about that I could control them at all. What did they want? Why were they so angry? Still, I now had a title and they paid me good money to keep them under control. Why did they want to eat me anyway.

I must, then, develop control techniques such that I might put my head in its mouth, to prove something or just for the spectacle. I wore the right shoes and everything. Sometimes my shoes were so complicated that I could not understand them and forgot how to walk completely.

After a time when I could require the pleated skirt and the pink felt hat was awarded to my achievements.

I made a large cage, so that I could manage several clients at once, seating them on small podia and waving my chair at them if they looked feisty. It was all very. The crowd went wild.

When lock came up, I lost my and could not continue to have contact in person because of the ovid, other poets are available. I began doing class online, that I might wave my chair and crack my whip for the benefit of the screen people. Wave, Wave, crack, crack.

We were alone, together. Sometimes my presence was not sufficient to prevent them frightening small creatures in the undergrowth. My motivation began to take on water and the tiller became sluggish. I then must utilise my bicycle that went nowhere, sitting and shouting in a frenzy of try this and try that and now I am in control, you’ll be lucky.

When I am peddling through the wild mountains in my back room, I can feel the wind. But going uphill all day is hard and there is no summit. A hill with no end, a slope with no relief, an escarpment with no defences, an embankment with no city, a snow line with no snow, only. When it wasn’t finished, I was exhausted but no wiser. Had I arrived at the place, but which place was the place.

In my head there was a long, long esplanade until the summit, phew at last, and where I can see out across all of the wonderful world with forest cities and waterfalls, among other fine sights. It would be so beautiful. But I only saw the bedroom wall with the wallpaper of green flowers which I always meant to change or paint or strip. Sad really because I have cycled very hard.

I decide to make a grammage to the infernal fountain to gain some well wishes and advice.

Good for you said the other grims who might sit around upon the grassy soft verge after a long day on the grammage hike.

What will you wish when we arrive?

If I tell, then it will not. Said the Personal Trainer.

Keep stum then.

I didn’t say anything, said the Sphinx, upon listening to it being read out.

No, not you, its what the grims said to the Personal Trainer.

Oh.