Noise in the Shape of Writing

Welcome back, Pat, to your own blog.

As I begin re-exercsing my brain on blog entries again, I also find myself beginning an exrecise routine the rest of this rusting hunk of a 38 year old body (yay, Scorpios!). Recently, I stole my sister's Nautilus machine. Well, actually, it's not a Nautilus..it's an Avita. Yes, well known in the world of cheap, cut-rate home gyms, I know. Nonetheless, it offers numerous (5) ways to work out the pecs, ceps, quads and miscellaneous roids and troids.

Beginning in the morning before breakfast and before leaving for work, I first attacked the thing haphazardly, like a pit bull on a rotting zebra. I knew not where to begin my journey towards rippedness. But I *did* know that I wanted to do it Hollywood style! That's right.... I am on the Brad Pitt body Fight Club-era sculpting exercise routine!

I found it on the internet along with a followup on how to get hunked out like Matthew McCaunaghey. I gave the wife the choice of which sexy stud she wanted to wake up next to in three weeks. Given that it is quite impossible to get me (in my current state) to look like them (in any state) in three months, the choice became obvious... laugh laugh laugh... laugh like the little big nose guys on the "You want it... when?" posters.

I, however, did not laugh. I went right out and did 11 push ups.

Oh -- the -- pain.
Not after the 10. Those felt GREAT! It was after the short break, followed by "If I can do 10, I can certainly do 10 more!"

Nope. Funny thing about the body. You can fool it once, but not twice.

At least not before breakfast.