Most of the time, I no longer really get sore from working out.

Except for from workouts involving walking lunges. Enough of those, and – though they don’t seem too bad at the time – for days after, I can barely walk.

Take the deceptively simple “400m walking lunges for time”: find a track, start a stopwatch, and time how quickly you can walk in lunges around that track – 400 meters.

The last time I did this one, I was so sore the next day that I missed my subway stop. I was literally unable to stand up. I had to wait for the woman next to me to get off so that I could slide along the seat, and hoist myself by the bench-side railing.

The workout cropped up again two days ago. And, indeed, yesterday I was brutally sore. But today, for whatever reason, I’m far, far worse.

That coincided, of course, with the first time this year my office elevator has broken down. So, for a slew of meetings, about ten times so far today, I’ve had to haul myself, slowly, slowly, up and down all six flights.

Normally, I could take those six flights without even losing my breath. But, today, I reach the top (or worse, the bottom, as descending is even more excruciating) bedraggled, sweating through my shirt, and smelling vaguely like wet dog.

I’m sure the bankers I’ve been meeting can’t help but have been impressed.