Dream-killing moment

I was sitting at the bank the other day, making a mental list of all the other jobs in the world I'd rather be doing than cashing checks.  There were a lot, but that is beside the point.  Near the top of my list was the FBI.  Solving crimes and looking good doing it.  I've always wanted to be part of the Missing Persons department, a la Without a Trace, or crack down on drug trafficking in the DEA.  Which I suppose is not in the FBI at all.  Whatevs.

Anyway, I decided to look and see what the requirements are to join the FBI.  Let's put it this way: it will never happen.  Not only do I have to be some kind of foreign language speaking, computer and science genius, but I must be an Olympic-caliber athlete. 

So I have accepted that I won't be wielding a gun and chasing down bad guys for the government in this lifetime, but I have decided that I will meet the physical requirements one day.  I will do 42 sit-ups in under a minute, run a 300 m sprint in under one minute, do more than 22 perfect push-ups and somehow run 1.5 miles in under 13 minutes.  (Nevermind the fact that the fastest mile I have ever run in my life was 10:02 during my senior year of high school.  Somehow I'll fit that other half mile in those last three minutes.)

Pretty sure my starting point is light years away from these goals, but that's the point of a goal, right?  Maybe in this time I will also learn Russian and how to build a computer.