This is a Fitness Post.

A few weeks ago, I turned 39 years old.  I work a physically demanding job.  In my youth, I was a fitness freak.  I worked out with friends for fun.  From my late teens to late 20s, I was the model picture of health (not to toot my horn too loudly or anything).  Turning the corner on 30, friendships, while not ending, did change, as in the amount of time we all had to hang together, and run in the park, or hit the weights.  Some of us got married and moved away.  Some of us had kids.  You know the story.  From my early 30s to present day, my attention to personal health has ebbed and flowed, but mostly ebbed.

I didn’t, (and still don’t, actually), care about having that beach-ready body of my earlier years.  I’m married, and lucky enough to have a wife who cares more about my health than what I look like in a banana hammock “mankini“.  My workouts during this ebb and flow, mainly consisted of weight work, with light cardio.  And when I was performing this kind of workout on a steady, routine basis, I felt better, but because of my atrocious diet, I was beginning to look worse.  Again, I don’t care about looking like I’m 23 at 39, but something had to give!

I remembered a childhood friend, whom was always overweight, yet athletic.  In his mid 30s, he dedicated his life to the new craze, involving plyometrics and healthy eating.  In his MID 30s, he totally transformed himself to the point where you wouldn’t recognize him without a double-take.  I remembered this friend, and reached out to him on tips for eating a better balanced diet.  (Ugh, that word!)  Instead of giving me the easy answer, which he knew by personal experience, as not being an answer at all, he recommended I take a two month challenge of high-intensity plyometrics by way of a popular program.

I researched the program, after his over-the-phone lecture, and studied up on YouTube, of all places, in order to see how it worked with “regular people”, as if my mind was trying to convince itself that my friend’s success was anything other than “normal”.  To my surprise, his success with the programs and others like it was the norm.  I watched countless before and after videos, where former “flabbies” were chiseled and promoting these programs, and promoting healthy eating, (which I’ve learned is nowhere near as difficult as my sugar-craving brain made it out to be).  As it turns out, I’m rarely hungry, and I’m starting to better survive the grueling, sweat drenching workouts.

And so, the point of this post is to serve as personal motivation to myself, (and maybe for YOU), to complete the program I’ve started, and to post my before and after shots once I’m done.

I don’t delete old blogs, especially not those that today embarrass me.  Therefore, if I flake, this blog will shame me, to me, forever.


The key is to never quit quitting.

This little corner of mine on the internet was once semi-popular. I had a lot to say years ago. There are blogs I enjoy to visit where the author updates the viewer daily with snippets, humor, news, or what have you. Sometimes, I’m envious of the ability to just share the mundane. It’s how we get to know each other beyond first impressions, beyond the surface.

My blog has always dealt with some form of depression or suffering, or “radical” realization. Since making a few changes in my life some short years ago, I’ve had very little to share outside of one topic specifically. Hence, the need for this update.

I’m making yet another attempt to quit smoking. I’ve been told many times by They, “The more you try, the easier it gets. The key is to keep trying.” So, for perhaps the 5th time in three years, I’m giving it another shot. In my case, it doesn’t get easier with each attempt. The physical and psychological effects seem to compound with each attempt.

Some might ask, (and by some, I mean no one), “Why are you trying to quit?”  Well, I’ll tell you busybodies why: I’m just damn-straight tired of smoking. I’m tired of smelling it. I’m tired of tasting it. I’m tired of fatigue. I’m tired of dependence. I’m tired of addiction. I’m tired of regretting those first few smokes.

I’m tired of disappointing my wife. I’m tired of having her suffer my smell. I’m tired of my smell. I’m tired of having to go outside in shit weather to feed my habit. I’m tired of my little car serving as both a method of transport and an ashtray.  I’m tired of doubting the force of  my will.

I’m tired of doubting the force of my will.
I’m tired of doubting the force of my will.
I’m tired of doubting the force of my will.
I’m tired of doubting the force of my will.
I’m tired of doubting the force of my will.

…and if I haven’t mentioned it already, I’m tired of doubting the force of my will.


Looking back at old entries, it would seem I’ve aged 50 years over the course of two.  Whereas before I wrote about sex and relationships, now I write about my never ending battle with smoking, and now Lipitor.


Up until a week before Thanksgiving, I was working out and hitting the gym religiously.  I was receiving compliments and I felt pretty damn good.  However, like too many people, year after gluttonous year, I “took a break” during the holidays, and now I weigh close to 200 lbs.  I’m too short for this weight, even if I do carry it well.  So while watching Fist of Legend, starring Jet Li, I said to myself, “It’s time.”

A friend of mine and I used to spar like this years ago.  I gave him a call today to see if we can awaken the sleeping the dragon, hibernating within my soul for far too many years now.

If this doesn’t work, or if I bail like a loser, I’ll roll like the other cool fat boys and trade in my Yaris for this:

30 inch rims beetch!