I Need A Miracle

MY ABS ARE KILLING ME

Like it or not, there’s no turning back. It’s official. Raja and I have enlisted our souls to the calling of Mount Kinabalu, Sabah. And because these sort of “special” climbs require prior extensive training, we’re pushing ourselves.

Last minute style, of course.

With only less than 10 days to go, we’re only at our second day of training. Which is bad. Really bad. And like any true loser, my body is already shutting down on me.

When I woke up this morning, I realized that my abs had bought some knives from Home Depot and are jabbing me from inside, my waist was making this disturbingly weird clicking noise, someone had cemented  bricks and a jumbo 747 on my back, and my legs, well don’t even get me started with those worthless twigs. I was a mess.

I still am.

To think that I was broken down by a silly badminton game and a few swings on the golfing range makes me the lamest person ever after Fanny packs and Mullet hair style. Even lamer, I thought I could conquer a 4095 meter mountain with minimum, almost zero training.

In fact, I should be made prime minister for my bravery. Mirage, fantasy, delusion, whatever you want to call it.

As of this desperate moment, I think it’s pretty obvious that I’m expecting a miracle here. It doesn’t even have to be a big one.

Dear God, if you’re listening, please pleaseeee build me an escalator from the base to the peak of Mount Kinabalu. It can even be made out of plastic. Or wood, if forest activists get involved. An elevator or a helicopter would be better. But I’m not fussy. Love always, your lamer than Fanny pack servant.

Technically, this picture proves that we were somewhat in a productive training environment. If you look carefully, that’s me on that horse with a red scarf. It may look like I was galloping away from the hard work behind me, but truth is, I was leading the pack. And I’m not naked, it’s a skin colored top.