On Exercise and Faith

I’m not a religious man, and I’m not inclined to put much faith in an afterlife. Humans have always seemed to have an abnormal aversion to the concept of a final end and, for that matter, an absolute beginning.

But I just did a half-hour in-place jog while listening to the Yes Album, which lately has been my definitive favorite album. The beautiful, progressive-rock sounds did a lot to keep me moving even after the 20 minute timer on Wii Fit expired. And amidst the sweat, and pain, and screaming muscles, I’ve decided something. I’ve decided that if there’s an afterlife to be had, the most likely thing I can envision is jogging up a long, winding path to Valhalla. And as I climb, Golden Valkyries swoop hither and thither with Gibson Flying Vs (topless of course), playing Steve Howe’s “Würm”, with an endless flagon of fresh draft Guinness, Stone Ruination Indian Pale Ale, Rogue Dead Guy Ale, and Sweetwater 420 in my hand. Though the beers will likely change, aside from the Guinness, eternally cascading that astounding black and tan like a crystal clear sky with a billion stars.

It’s the most awesome afterlife scene I can imagine. Probably the most realistic, too.