I can run for miles on end even when I’m riddled with injuries or being chased.
I can ride a bike to Tennessee and back if I didn’t have the responsibilities of adulthood and life in general.
I can lift weights for hours and actually have fun doing it. I can even like yoga, sometimes.
I can clean my house all day long and hardly break a sweat. I can work out in my yard for hours and hours in the record-breaking heat of summer. I can trim trees, rake leaves, pull weeds and clear brush. I can cut down the thorny blackberry bushes and machete through the kudzu.
I have lifted a pool table, picked up a boat and trailer, moved heavy furniture and various other things. I have ridden my water ski’s for hours, ridden a wakeboard just as long, and taken my paddleboard all the way to the Venice Inlet from my backyard in Nokomis.
I can kill a roach, a spider, an ant, or a snake and I don’t have to call MacGyver to do it for me. I can shoot a gun, ride a motorcycle, and climb a tree.
The point I’m making here is that I can pretty much do anything.
But even Superman has his kryptonite and just like Superman, I’ve got mine.
Because there is one thing that can bring me to my knees every single time.
I’m eating it anyway because WTF, it’s Wednesday!
What’s your kryptonite?