Laura pounded away at the spongy astro-turf as she made her way around the inside of Lincoln High’s track. It’d been an hour. Maybe longer. She hadn’t brought her watch, but she’d counted about 50 times around the endless road. Maybe 48. Maybe 52. She lost count somewhere around 34, and had just guessed the number of her next lap. Either way, she had another 10 or so laps to go. It wasn’t a record she was trying to set, or a race to win. Not yet anyway. This was just training. It had been her fourth time running that week, and this was her long day. She thought it’d get easier by this point, it was her fifth week in training, after all. But it never really did. The acid build up started to eat away at her muscles somewhere around lap 40. Which she guessed was progress. When she stared it had only taken 20 laps for the pain to start. That was supposed to make it easier, but that wasn’t really the hard part, she’d learned. No. The hard part was the sheer boredom of it all. All the talk about the running high and even that only lasted ten or so laps. Now it was just a test of grit and determination to keep her legs moving, keep the muscles contracting and extending to make it to the 60th lap. One leg in front of the other. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. But damn was she tired. She hadn’t eaten enough that day either. A huge box of macaroni and cheese waited for her at home. She was gonna make the whole damn thing. Not the healthiest of meals for an athlete but she was more than making up for it right now. Shit. Was that one lap or two. Gotta go with one. Forty-nine laps down, eleven to go. Wait eleven? Wasn’t it 10 before? How was she losing laps? Oh yeah. She wasn’t. She was losing count. Ms. Elizabeth would be laughing at her. The star mathematician of the class, losing count. Oh shit, she hadn’t finished the weekend’s homework either.


The newest writing exercise for the creative mine! This one came from a bit of a personal place today, mainly I’m exhausted from writing term essays. What’s your exhaustion story? 

One thought on “Exhaustion

  1. 5 freaking hours… she thought to herself while rubbing her temples, as they bickered incessantly for what seemed like the millionth time that evening. Her pure imagination, her passion, her wildest dreams all poured into this beautiful epic of an adventure. Yet it went wasted time and time again, her efforts spent on the whining ingrates that she called her friends. 5 hours….and they haven’t even gotten to the best part of the dungeon yet…. She tried to wait patiently as the cleric argued with the paladin over the true meaning of ‘lawful good’ and attempted not to develop a massive migraine. Meanwhile, the complex puzzle that she spent her lunch hours mastering for a week straight stared her friends in the face, unexplored and forgotten. She didn’t even want to think about the entire tragic love story that got rendered insignificant the moment her friends decided to kill her main NPC for nothing more than the sheer fun of it. With a loud sigh, and another swig of red wine, she emotionlessly guided her friends’ attention to the statue of the Roman goddess Venus, that contained the puzzle switch needed to progress. Her companions immediately started discussing and inquiring about the physical anatomy of the statue, and started rolling dice to make checks to procreate with the inanimate object. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples again. Could mental and physical exhaustion be achieved simply by surrounding yourself with sheer stupidity…? The barbarian grinned at her while proudly announcing his critical success roll for carrying the statue home to mount in his bedroom. 5 hours…. she thought to herself again, shaking her head. This was going to be a long night.


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