Nearly there...
999.
1000.
I read somewhere on a cereal packet that doing a press-up is the equivalent to running a space mile so I've probably hit the moon and back a few times already. First butcher on the moon probably.
It's not that I'm getting fat or anything, the opposite being true, I haven't weighed more than six stone in my entire life. It's partly why I'm so naturally adapted to gliding and why I always dress up as Flat Stanley on Halloween.
Hitting the big triple zero was a test of will, a battle with myself to show that I can beat myself, time and time again, and I'll be honest, finally achieving is a great feeling.
Next year I'm going to try tuck jumps.