It's a chilly Sunday morning,
Yet dark and sleep-in still.
The day, a way off dawning,
For an extra hour in bed I'd kill.

But, reminded I’m committed,
With a vibration at my wrist.
By good intentions thus outwitted,
To more sleep a goodbye kissed.

The day before when full of vigor,
I’d booked time at the gym.
For how I might feel didn't figure,
(So much for acting on a whim).

Bleary eyed I pack a bag,
And a coffee having slugged.
From the shed my bike I drag,
Then into sports mode I am plugged.

Lungs treated to the pre-car air,
As I pant my way to speed.
Legs, commissioned to get me there,
That coffee now meets their need.

And soon I'm at the pantheon,
Of our local gurning gods.
But no equipment will you see me on,
Vaunting biceps, glutes and quads.

I'm a stalwart of the swimming pool,
Its goggles, caps and trunks.
Less heaving hot than chlorine cool,
More filled with hulks than hunks.

But once I'm in and doing lengths,
I forget the time and day.
Playing to my aerobic strengths,
Splashing back and forth each way.

Done, my well spent healthful hour,
Satisfaction tank now full.
I head for a lovely nice hot shower,
And enjoy the post swim lull.

I stop in for the brief reward,
Of a boosting nice hot drink.
A further strong hot coffee poured,
To fuel a moment there to think.

Then all replete, I cycle home,
With recharged vigour and vim.
The benefit of my ealy roam,
And fulfilled duty at the gym.