26: 187,800 Bohemian Rhapsody

Early this morning I received a call; there was heavy fog over in Chino.  Could I drive Lad to the bus stop?  I threw a sweatshirt over my pj's and headed out.

Granite emerging from a blanket of clouds.

What a glorious morning it was.

Chino looked like this:

 Williamson Valley? Like this:

I ate a little (banana and bread with EVOO) and headed into town.  

Willow Lake

Watson Lake, just a 1/2 mile away.

By the time I drove back past Willow, this was the view:

Minutes changed the spectacle; I longed for my good camera, high on a shelf at home.  Photography is a passionate hobby I have not become better at with time; I know I lack the natural eye for perspective.

Perspective.  Amazing how views changed with just a little perspective.

So you'd think with all this perspective and a good experience Wednesday I could just waltz right in to exercise this morning, right?

Nope, sat here ten minutes.

Oh, I went it.  I just didn't want to go in.

My "wants" often involve a "don't."

As in, "I don't want to."

The King is helping me write the blog tonight, as we listen to great music and eat dinner at Taj Mahal.

He's looking up Clint Eastwood quotes.

Anyhow, I get in the facility, and Joey starts teaching me four new sets, each based in push/pull for both upper and lower body.

This is the universal athletic stance.  Joey is truly the Professor cut.

I'm instructed how to do pull-ups (with reduced weight), barbell lift, dead lift and kettle bell squats.

I owned the kettle bell squats.

She ain't got nothing on my kettle bell squat.

Three sets of fifteen, with 500m of rowing to warm-up, inbetween and to cool down.

Well, that was the plan.

My role model for the sets.

In push-ups, it was quickly acknowledged that if I did five I was doing good.  I could do three.

Three.

With reduced weight.

I tried to push, and got a fourth.  I realized if I pushed for five, I would cry.

Again.

On Friday.

This is where Bueller stepped in.

Joey wasn't looking, see?

Who was counting my reps but me?

And Ferris?

Interestingly, Maverick was no where to be found...

So I switched it to twelve instead of fifteen.  

And occasionally ten.

Not that I was cheating.  It's not cheating when you are only doing what you are capable of, right?

Or you're only doing what you want to do?

He was trying to win.  I was trying to survive.  Big difference.

So, yeah, I cheated.

I did tell Joey.  He said it was better to do 12 clean than 15 sloppy.  I took that validation with a smile, and vowed to have Maverick shoot down Ferris the next time he came to the gym.

I mean, why let those weapons go to waste, right?

The rest of my day passed in a blur.  I saw Andrew, my favorite massage therapist, and found a Pilates instructor for week seven (only slightly terrifying.)

Then this happened:

All is right with the world.