Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
I've ended the first week's circuit. And dammit, I feel phenomenal. So good, in fact, that I've just poured myself a glass of pure effervescent joy: Victory Hops Devil...
Let me reiterate:
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
I love beer, although it is surely an agent of General Fatness. But I'm a forgiving person (that is, as long as you go down smooth and leave a crisp, hoppy aftertaste (like you, John (this has got to be the weakest sexual innuendo of all time))). Again with the parentheses. Sheesh.
I don't want to talk about working out. This is my rest day. I have done everything I was supposed to do. I have not missed a beat, nor have I misstepped with my diet (until the beer, but fuck it, it's tasty).
If I could drink onion rings I would at this point.
But I won't.
I've learned that it actually does feel better to be fit...well, active. I feel fit. I look at myself differently. Overall, I feel much more jubilant than I have in the last quarter of the year. And as much as I love that unwholesome junk I so vehemently funneled into my gullet, I like this feeling more.
My god how I ramble. Enjoy it. Minutes ago I had nothing to say and couldn't write. Now I've got nothing to say, but cannot stop typing.
Tomorrow I am faced with the most challenging workout of this circuit, and I am not really looking forward to it. I love the results, but the fatigue becomes so daunting that it is difficult to maintain a rational thought (huh, you would think Glenn Beck would be ripped by now...). But I'll plow through it. Hell, I might be able to squeeze out a few more push-ups this time around.
I'll keep you posted.
mdm
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