Blood, Sweat, and Tears

So, I take Wednesday off from the workout to hang with the boys and watch a friend and his band play. Straight to the beer garden from work, I went. The friend that sang kinda reminded me of David Clayton-Thomas, remember him? I felt guilty about not working out, kinda missed the sweat.

Realized Thursday at work that Friday was, like, toMORrow and I didn't have a graduation gift yet. Straight to the store from work, I went. Right. I didn't work out that day, either.

Friday I was up and about at 7am, dressing for a ceremony that I needed to be at at 8:30am. Wore the khaki's I bought last week with a light blue shirt and topped it off with a new silk tie, a stripey thing in blues and tan and off white. Brown belt, brown shoes. I hate dressing up.

The ceremony was over at 11am and I headed back to the house to get into some comfortable clothes (cargo shorts and a pull over and tennis shoes), and then headed to a relative of The Graduate for a party in honor of he The Graduate. Beef fajitas, rice and beans, and beer flowed. I ate two (count 'em, TWO only!) fajitas and nary a drop of brew. I kinda got piggy on the guacamole. How did I ever live without this stuff when I was a Yankee?

I excused myself from the party at 3pm, telling everyone that I needed to go work out. I said my goodbyes, jumped in my truck, and instead of turning right to head north on the interstate to get back into my side of the city, I turned left and headed out of town. I drove an hour to San Antonio and met a friend who is a homosexual, and was a homosexual my OWN self, with him.

Right. I didn't work out Friday, either. Well, I don't want to split hairs here, so I'm not counting Friday as a work out, okay? I mean, I wasn't at the gym, but exertion occurred. You get my drift.

Three days of no exercise in a row.

Today is Saturday and I am full of remorse. My fasting blood sugar was at 123 this morning! NOOO! This is not a good number for someone who ate sensibly (except for the close encounter of the avacado kind) and stayed on his meds during his haitus.

What goes up, MUST come down, motherfucker.

I had a grilled chicken breast for lunch, ran some errands ( a visit to the truck dealership to get my temp tags replaced, haircut, grocery store), and then returned to the gym. I prayed for forgiveness as I pedaled that bike. God rolled his eyes. Jesus wept. And the sweat flowed like grape juice from every pore.

[Note: This is why I am not a writer. Good grief!}

Hallelujah! I am reborn! Amen.