It takes me a solid three miles to get going, but surprisingly, once we find our pace and break a sweat, my legs really loosen up. In fact, I go from feeling like a stick figure to someone performing in Cirque du Soleil—okay, maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but I feel good—real good. Odd. I mention it to SEAL as we run and he just replies, “Jesse, I really don’t give a fuck.”
