Gym Euphoria

I'm not a gym rat, I swear. Believe you me, it takes all I can to drag my sorry butt to work out, and I treat it like a trip to the dentist in that I bring everything I can to possibly distract myself: ipod, books, magazines -- heck I'd bring food if I could. But somewhere after 30 minutes on the torture device known as the elliptical, the endorphins kick in. Delirious from exhaustion, I go into the "zone" and an amazing sense of clarity emerges. My creativity reaches new heights as I come up with new book ideas, inventions, philosophies of life. Dripping with sweat, I shed my insecurities, apathy, and limitations, and metamorphisize into a new, actualized being. On my drive back, I vow to implement my new ideas and change my life as soon as I get home. Of course, once I set foot in the door, the couch beckons...