His arms strained
It was his first one
This was not fatigue
But a painful awakening
He reached ten
His shoulders shuddered
Took notice of his effort
So did his chest
He breath deeper
Yet faster
He adjusted at twenty
Hands searched for their spots
Feet dug into the ground
The thirtieth one
Had him celebrating
So did the fortieth
He was given a compromise
He could end at fifty
Fifty is a good number
But he was halfway there
His stubbornness won
His left elbow buckled
Real fatigue settled in
Seventy-five is a better number
He denied the offer
Or did he grunt?
Too tired to talk at eighty
Too tired to shake his head
Both his elbows buckled this time
He felt his blood pressure rise
The ninetieth was excruciating
The ninety-first even more so
He counted backwards now
Eight, seven, six
He felt tears inside his arms
And five more to go
Black dots danced in front of him
Only four more
His face in the pool of sweat
Just three more
Electricity ran down his arms
Two more
He screamed

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