Saturday, June 09, 2018

Legit day off

It's gotten harder as I've aged to maintain a daily hour of exercise as rigid as an exercise bike on medium resistance. Some days I ride the BYB instead, some days I have to have off. 

The 18-chain-put-back-on efforts with the BYB with sumo wrestler like squatting as I faced off with PTSD V sprocket und chain meant strained thighs and my body says to take a day of rest. I feel guilty but it's a legit day off so less guilty for the self-imposed regime of an hour a day. 

So I don't have to do it; my body says no. But will my mind agree? I don't know.

UPDATE: I decided to do just ten minutes and ended up doing 10.5 kays and 32 minutes—so I compromised and did a half day. The top part of my body felt great, the breathing and heart pound, the bottom half was not happy and sore thighs were made more sore. It's like I'm a paintaur; half man, half "why, Universe, why?!"

I had a recent think on my physical and mental dross and I realised it's distilled me into the essence of nuggety fuck—and it's nuggety fucks that get things done.  

I caught sight of my be-suited self before an interview and I felt that then; that I am a nuggety fuck. 

Omega yes; nuggety for sure—nuggety fucks. 

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