Unconventional Nordic Exercise

Lo, there!

I am Hrothulf, son of Hrothdel, son of Hrofric, son of Ulfric, son of Urdelchai, who was the great-great-grandson of Grenhrothulchai, first king of the Geats-Men. As I sit here, drinking the finest mead upon my gilded throne, fashioned from the skulls of mine enemies and wild beasts and the feral and strange creatures of distant hinterlands, I am troubled by strange dreams. For you see, I am the strongest of all Geats, I stand amongst my men a mountain amongst a field of sturdy oaks, each of them possessing the strength of ten men and I the strength of ten of mine own. Lo, I possess the strength of ten men ten times, having nigh split the trunk of Yggdrassil the World Ash in twain, raising my sword Unfercus to the thunderous sky I made to smite the twisted trunk once more, but was restrained by Magni, son of Thor, strongest of the Asgard gods... and yet he trembled and gnashed at the strength of my fury. I relinquished only to the gods, for was it not I, Hrothulf, who swam the raging winter of the northern seas to face on open-water the dragon that slew Ulger, King of Orth, even as his sons crept about his kingly mantle, each fearing to wear the crown for the treachery of his own blood? Was it not I who claimed that throne? My ten Geats standing against the armies of Orth who had fallen under sway of Ulger's most cunning third born Lulricht? Was it not I, Hrothulf, who stood against Hrungortlok the nine-tusked boar, a beast the size of some lurching whale-beast, with tusks of iron and covered from snout to to tail with the barbed and poisoned quills we called Huntorgul? Have you not heard of these exploits? Surely you have, and now as I enjoy the spoils of war I, the king of the Geats and Orts, am troubled. For you see, I have completed mine food diary, inscribed upon this ledger are eight flagons of mead, five roast goats from which not but the cracked bone remain, the marrow sucked from their hollows, a dozen boiled roots and the seared heart and belly of the great stag of the wood, and having put all my feasts to word, I find I have exceeded mine calorie count. Mine settings are forged to speak of mine active lifestyle, however, perhaps the lives of ordinary postal-workers and peasant farmers are unsuitable for the Hero King of the Geats and Orts, yea they must be, for I have exceeded mine calorie count numberless times and yet each of mine arms is as strong as twenty men.

How shall I count mine exercises? Tipping the great stone idols of the gods of men I have crushed? Shall we call that push-ups? When I heft upon my shoulder the great corpse of Hrungortlok to bear back to mine throne room, shall I call it squats? Can Mine Fitness Pal accommodate mine feats, say the swim over the frozen northern seas which itself lasted 8 days, each way, and should I then list my battle with the dragon which slew mighty Ulger of the Orts and King of Orth as a separate workout? Or shall I log them as some manner of circuit training? Forsooth, though you might say to me, "Hrothulf, son of Hrothdel, son of Hrofric, son of Ulfric, son of Urdelchai, who was the great-great-grandson of Grenhrothulchai, first king of the Geats-Men and crowned King of both Geat and Orth, buy you a heart monitor, or take one from a fallen foe!" I say this! I have the strength of ten men times ten, mine heart is as strong as the rest of mine body, such things would burst forth their attempted perch upon mine tree-like limbs, their pieces falling to the ground as winter snow.

What say you now? How shall I count mine exercise calories? How shall Hrothulf, King of Geats-men, King of Ort-men, best quell these fearful dreams which predict some beast to come for him in the night, some beast whose name most men fear such that they dare not speak it, that monster which comes when men sleep to end their lives, that which is called... Congestive Heart Failure. How shall I battle this beast which uses mine hearty diet against me? Poisonous cholesterol! Vile antagonist! I loath the night you come for me, and so shall you! For I am the mightiest of all men, and mine heart the mightiest of all hearts.

I stand warning to you all.

((EDIT: I noticed my post about joining a vampire cult living in an amusement park got moderated. I would argue that I am exploring topics of weight loss and nutrition through absurdist allegory, and it bears at least as much poignancy and pertinence to this forum as favorite-food haikus--with which I have no beef--I'm just saying that there doesn't seem to be an expectation that every post provide or seek out information or support.))