"Our [gym] instructor was Detective Washington, who had taught there for most of his career. He was a superb athlete and a black belt, and he sought to hone our survival skills by providing all kinds of so-far-unimagined motivations:

'You know what's gonna happen if you get killed on the Job -- if you're too fat to run up to the thirtieth floor of the Polo Grounds projects on a gun run, and you're gasping for breath on the fifth, too wiped out to do anything but throw up, you can't even lift your arms, forget about remembering this wrist hammer-lock we learned today -- and Bam! You are done! And everybody's gonna be sad for a while, and the Mayor and the PC will go to your funeral, and a few months, a year later, your partner, your best friend, the one who said he'd look out for you, he's gonna be looking out for your wife! He calls to see how she's feeling, and he's the only one who understands, and the next thing you know, they're on the beach together in Martinique! Martinique! My favorite place in the world, and they're gonna be drinking mai-tais and daiquiris and saying, 'Should we have another?' and 'Yeah, why not!' because you're paying for it! They're living fat on your pension money there, and speaking of fat, you're gonna look down and say, 'Shit, she's looking good, why couldn't she lose those fifteen pounds for me! She does it for him, and not for me!' So do yourself a favor and stay in shape, and remember what I'm teaching you today so your partner can buy his own mai tais for his own fat wife....'"
- Edward Conlon, Blue Blood