Post by Tripod on Jul 30, 2014 20:02:57 GMT
[Sept 12th, 6.30 AM. Closed to Spot, Tripod, and any other dogs who would be out this early]
Had he been a human, he would have been sweating buckets right about now.
As it was, Tripod's tongue drooped out of his mouth, and he panted heavily as he counted out push-ups. The three-legged dal had started out his morning by meeting up with Cadpig, as had become their custom, for her to do up his uniform's tie for him - it now sat in its rightful place up at his collar, looking neat and smart - and then had set off on his typical morning jogging while she found a quiet spot to meditate. After a couple of circuits of the playing fields, Tripod had headed down to the quad, where he had settled down to the push-ups he was still working on now.
"Ninety-seven." *pant* "Ninety-eight." *pant* "Ninety-nine..."
The early morning sun was already unmercifully hot, and his exertion was only making it worse, but Tripod was determined that he wouldn't be beaten. His muscles were starting to sting, but Tripod firmly believed the old saying of 'no pain, no gain'; there was no way he was going to stop until he was seriously feeling the burn. A fit physique wasn't built or maintained without serious effort, and that was why it would be a rare thing indeed to find a morning when Tripod wasn't pushing himself until it hurt.
That, and his insatiable desire to prove that he could be just as good a dog on three legs as any other canine was on four.
By the time he reached a hundred and five, however, Tripod was aware that other students were starting to emerge from their dormitories. Not a vast number, to be sure, just the early risers like himself; and while the dalmatian had no intention of letting their presence stop him - if he left them alone, they'd leave him alone, he figured - he did raise his head for a glance around at those who were starting to mill about the quad, even as he continued his workout.
Had he been a human, he would have been sweating buckets right about now.
As it was, Tripod's tongue drooped out of his mouth, and he panted heavily as he counted out push-ups. The three-legged dal had started out his morning by meeting up with Cadpig, as had become their custom, for her to do up his uniform's tie for him - it now sat in its rightful place up at his collar, looking neat and smart - and then had set off on his typical morning jogging while she found a quiet spot to meditate. After a couple of circuits of the playing fields, Tripod had headed down to the quad, where he had settled down to the push-ups he was still working on now.
"Ninety-seven." *pant* "Ninety-eight." *pant* "Ninety-nine..."
The early morning sun was already unmercifully hot, and his exertion was only making it worse, but Tripod was determined that he wouldn't be beaten. His muscles were starting to sting, but Tripod firmly believed the old saying of 'no pain, no gain'; there was no way he was going to stop until he was seriously feeling the burn. A fit physique wasn't built or maintained without serious effort, and that was why it would be a rare thing indeed to find a morning when Tripod wasn't pushing himself until it hurt.
That, and his insatiable desire to prove that he could be just as good a dog on three legs as any other canine was on four.
By the time he reached a hundred and five, however, Tripod was aware that other students were starting to emerge from their dormitories. Not a vast number, to be sure, just the early risers like himself; and while the dalmatian had no intention of letting their presence stop him - if he left them alone, they'd leave him alone, he figured - he did raise his head for a glance around at those who were starting to mill about the quad, even as he continued his workout.
