Don’t ask me how. Don’t ask me why. I live in a country where masks are mandated, I’m been vaccinated and boosted, and I don’t really go out other than to do the groceries, run, or walk the dog.
But that doesn’t matter. I tested positive once more. Thankfully, the symptoms don’t seem as wild this time—just a terrible sore throat and a cough.
Which means it’s the perfect time to revisit an old post of mine to take stock of what I think this time around.
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Barring the time I got ravaged by COVID or when I pulled my back, I’ve managed to maintain my daily workout schedule for about a year now. I don’t even remember how long it’s been. I’m just basing it off this post.
And I’ve uploaded said workouts in the form of Insta stories to hold myself accountable, even though it’s just to a handful of people.
But as a result of the stories, I did get a couple people sliding into my DMs, asking me whether I’m training to be invincible.
The answer is yes.
Am I preparing for a competition? Yes. For the competition of life.
Am I an addict? Yes. I’m addicted to the pump.
Do I take days off? Ye—uh, you almost got me there. No.
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It’s finally happened. No, I didn’t become a New York Times bestselling author. I have instead contracted COVID, after two years of dodging it like Neo in The Matrix.
But you know what I always say: when something bad happens to you, at least you’ll get a story out of it. And that’s what brings us to today’s post, my account with the virus, seven days in.
So sit back, put on your masks, and enjoy the lessons I’ve learned from this weird, weird week I’ve been having.
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I had to jinx it, didn’t I? I had to brag about my unbroken exercise streak. Now I’m sitting at an odd angle trying not to aggravate my pulled back.
It’s nothing serious, but it’s put me out of action for a week so far.
I was livid at first. I hated everything about being injured, and I pity the people who had to deal with me during my denial phase. I needed endorphins, damn it, and it sucked having to deal with life’s problems without that sweet, sweet drug.
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I feel like it wasn’t too long ago that I wrote this piece about working out every day for two months, and now it’s time once more to follow up on that.
I’m proud to announce that I’ve yet to break the chain, and I’ve now reached the five-month mark of working out every day. And this is coming from someone who much prefers sports to plain ol’ exercise.
I’ve learned so much about myself thus far, the main lesson being how much I hate exercise. But I’ve also learned that I can do hard things, especially on the days when I’m sure I wouldn’t be able to pull it off.
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Your Friendly Malaysian Writer 