Fatigue

Well, I've gone and done it. I resorted to doing one of the things I hate the most. (No, not getting up really early. I haven't lost all my marbles!)

I went jogging.

Yes, I broke down and decided to jog in the park near my house. It's a nice park with a 1.4 mile path around it. It's rolling terrain that's almost never flat, dirt and grass, so it's a good workout and a little easier on my knees and feet.

I ran a sadly shuffling 14 minute mile. Actually, I ran a little over two of them, then walked a couple more. It was a very long way from being the guy that outran almost everyone he knew. Ah well, there's still hockey, right?

I've dropped a couple of pounds in the last week and a half, which is a start. The problem is, I'm hungrier than usual, so it's hard to keep calories down. I'm chugging water like it's beer, and beer like it's... water. Or something.

Ok, ok, so actually, I feel pretty good. Sore, but good. My body still adjusts to exercise fast, which makes me feel a little less old, and, once I get to a good balance between size and speed, I hope to step up my game, both literal and metaphorical.

I've also done another thing too long in the waiting: I'm reading the last of my unread Tom Robbins books. It's the one I have two copies of, because he signed a hard copy for me when I met him at a local store. In it, he wished me all the success he wished for himself. It means a lot to me, him being a huge writing hero of mine.

If you're feeling like life is sucking this summer, or if you're just tired of the usual, I recommend picking up "Skinny Legs and All," which I think is Mr. Robbin's finest, or "Fierce Invalids Home from Hot Climates," which is a close second.