The glow Solomon felt from casting magic died out, and the tired smile on his face was replaced with one of abject horror. He swallowed deeply, and eventually let out a dejected sigh.

Of course they had to go jogging. Despite his body's anguished protest, the boy took one step forward and began jogging. He was never the most athletic person around. Oh, he wasn't unfit, and he did do sports occasionally, but right now he was just [i]tired[/i] - casting those fireballs took more out of him than he thought.

Barely 1 kilometer later, and Solomon was already struggling to walk. At the end of two kilometers, he looked like dehydrated grape. A dehydrated, damp, and frozen grape.  

"Whyyyyy was I born~!" he wailed exaggeratedly as he collapsed in a heap, at the end of his jog.