My body is a temple

First day back to Bazza's Boot Camp after a long stretch (of time that is, not of body). A Divine Mistress in the playground has been telling me to go all term and I have been so inclined, I have. But seeing lawyers, council appointments chez moi, it all seems to happen on a Thursday.

Today I walk up. Zat usually takes me because I'm normally far too lazy to walk.

"Right girls, outside!" says Master Bazza. I personally have never known the man to bark.

"What? What? Now?" Jogging is the bit I most dread at Bazza's Boot Camp. I'd do 100 press ups in its place....actually, no, that's not true...
"What about stretching???" I call to nowhere as I step out after them, actually quite, well, frightened.

I begin to jog. The Divine Mistresses are already infront but My Twin (born on the same day) hangs back and jogs with me.

I start chatting to her but very quickly run out of breath.

Credit to myself, I did not stop. I jogged it, the mile (mile and a half?). I had a stitch in my shoulder, my breath sounded like bubbles through a straw. Up that gradient, up that gradient I went, My Twin keeping pace, not racing off to join the others who were quite far infront.

"What did you have for breakfast?" she asked.
"A weetabix," I gasped.
"That's not enough darlin, you need some protein."
"Huuugh."

We return; gentle stretches, harder, harder then kick kick pow pow pow, press up resting on one hand, 30 seconds, 30 seconds more; my arm shakes uncontrollably, my whole body follows. My Twin feels it too, and is brave enough to speak up.

"It means you have no strength in your body," says a Divine Mistress. "Your body needs more oxygen."

My body is a temple. My temple is in ruins.