Fallen

The alarm, wait there was no alarm, my eyes clicked open at 4am and I studied the glowing green numbers while running options through my head. If I get up now I'll definitely be back home before the family's up. I decide to rest even given the debauchery that occurred last night. I don't want to think about it... the horror... the horror.

My son graduated from sailing camp yesterday. They end the camp with a potluck and a sailing regatta, the regatta can take forever due to low wind. It's mainly the time of day.

People are coming in bringing all sorts of stuff, my wife cooked some chicken dish and bought some jello. Price of admission. My son heads out with his crew while my wife went out on a boat to get some pics of the action. My daughter and I sit in the humid heat watching the boats maneuver for the start.

At first there was action but then the wind just died. Around 7pm I get up and scan the potluck. Some lady is working on a salad filled with garbanzo bean death. I watch her create some oily salad dressing.

Already suspecting the answer I ask, "Did you add holy water?"

"What?"

Never mind, if she wants to flirt with the forces of darkness I don't need to bear witness, as far as omens go, this wasn't a good one. I started with a cheese enchilada thing, a salad and some fruit. If I stopped there all would well and I could live with myself instead of staring at this vile cup of hemlock while listening to Sarah McLachlan's Fallen

Truth be told I've tried my best
But somewhere along the way
I got caught up in all there was to offer
And the cost was so much more than I could bear

I went back you see... three pizza squares this fruit thing that was like a strawberry short cake except it had all the berries, blue, rasp, straw in some sort of gelatin and the Doritos of damnation... I, I discovered that Wendy's now offers Coke floats... and oh dear God what have I done?

To everyone I know
Oh they turned their heads embarrassed
Pretend that they don't see
But it's one missed step
You'll slip before you know it
And there doesn't seem a way to be redeemed

Though I've tried, I've fallen...
I have sunk so low
I have messed up
Better I should know
So don't come round here
And tell me I told you so...

Why is it that you ponder this madness the morning after? During the regatta I didn't give it a thought.

My son won the regatta by the way. I was so happy for him! Wanna see his trophy?

You might think I'm being my typical sarcastic self when I say, "That trophy is the coolest thing ever!" You'd be wrong. It's smaller than a shot glass and is all plastic but in my eyes takes nothing away from the accomplishment. I love the "FIRST!" it makes me smile. Even dead last my kids are numero uno around these parts.

My eyes reopen at 6:30am and I get out of bed trying not to wake my wife who really digs her sleep time. I shave, the first indication that it's time to start climbing out of the pit. Make some coffee and load the panniers. I need those because my wife gave me a 'honey do' to pick up her laptop on the way back.

I hit the road around 7:30am and it's about six ways crowded. What are these cars doing out at this time of the morning? It doesn't matter, as long as they don't hit me. I hold a pretty good cadence for me (70) and even though I hit every stupid light between me and the gym (and yes I behave) I get to the gym in about fifteen minutes.

Heading into the lockers I glance at one of the weekend ghostPeople seriously hammering it out on an upright bike. She's the same girl I crossed paths with a few month ago who gave the StairClimber a real workout.

I change into my gym shorts, set the sauna for 9, grab my iPod, Garmin and head in. ghostGirl is gone. Did I imagine her? I've mentioned her to others in the gym and no one knows who I'm talking about. I never see her except at these odd times.

Is she some angel sent to motivate me by proxy to continue with my loopy endeavor to go just seventeen more lousy pounds? Or a demon? Maybe she's a real ghost. Some chick who pushed it just a little too far on the StairClimber, croaked and is now buried under the racquetball court her soul ensnared in some byzantine corporate cover up?

I glance at the door to the racquetball court. I'll have to ask IronMan the best way to get a backhoe in there.

Today is suppose to be a low tempo day. OK. I plop down on the recombinant, set it for fifty minutes, fat burner, level seven and go, holding the cadence at 70. About five minutes into it I decide the news is boring and want some tunes. Where's the iPod? I hop off the bike and run to the lockers, not there. Feeling despondent because I know I brought it in I notice it sitting right on the seat of the upright next to the bike I was on.

Groan.

I plug in the earbuds, reset the time to 45mins and go. Overall average HR at 55% but it felt tougher. Maybe the bike ride in? I get off the bike, wipe it down and do some bench presses. I'm experimenting with those. Then I do two rack runs of biceps and one of Arnolds and then fifteen situps on the BOSU.

I'm done, reset the timer on the sauna and call my wife. All is well at home. noNeed strolls in and I say hi to her. I grab a magazine declaring the inside scoop on Emenem's drug addiction problems. Who knew? He seemed like such a nice potty mouth. I confess to an admiration of his lyrical skills and the rawness he can put into his raps. Lose Yourself is one of my all time favorites.

I walk into the sauna and oh my Lord it is hot! I lay out my towel on the upper bench, open the mag and find the article on Emenem. It's so hot that I'm not even sweating. My fingers feel like they're burning, what is up? I can no longer hold the magazine, but mainly I'm wondering why I'm not sweating. I hop off the bench and check the temperature. 225. Oh. I get out of the sauna turn it off and then fan the heat out by fanning the door. It was so hot that my body shut down the sweating to conserve water. Sheesh!

After a bit of that I hop back in and sweat just flows off me. That's better. I finish Emenem's article which was pretty much what I expected.

I shower, change and hop on the bike, pick up my wife's laptop and head home. The wind was killer. I'm on the downward side of the overpass, peddling at 70rpms in the middle ring and going 10mph. Too funny. Well except my thighs weren't laughing, they had had ENOUGH. They bitched, moaned and whined the entire ride home.

The pansies.

I mean they were on the wrong side of that conversation. Complain when we get home not on the way there. Stupid muscles.

So once again, gentle reader, I'm on the path of redemption. I think I'll be spending time on this teeter-totter before I get it right or get off.

So the soap opera is told and unfolds
I suppose it's old partner', but the beat goes on