Yes... no... maybe... I don't know, can you repeat the question?

I wallow in lethargy, I miss the zeal, the fun of simply doing it and I wonder where it went. Yesterday I got on the spinner and turned the crank and felt ... bored. This will be forever thought of as The Blown Summer of my Flabby Discontent, or something equally ponderous, fat, stupid.

Philmont tore me up. It was well worth it but it tore me up.

Instead of my initial master plan of:

• Biking - a lot
• Philmont
• My 1st century on the bike
• Ripped six-pack at High School Reunion
• Hell Run
• Acting like a pretentious ass

It became:

• A total of 27 miles of biking or so
• Philmont
• A wonderful 20th Anniversary with my wife in NYC
• Hell Run
• Morosely struggling to get into the gym at all

I think about that when I hit the gym, missing most of my goals annoys me but I just heard from what's her name... what is her name????? uhhhhhh...

Oh My God!!!

Banging my head on the table didn't help the recall process one bit and I could spill her real name but you bastards would stalk the bejesus out of her - admit it damn you... what was her name?... oh come on!

ponyTail!!! I probably forgot that because I haven't seen her in the gym in forever, it can't be because I'm older than dirt... nor the incessant Diet Mt. Dew drinking... where was I?

Oh yeah, so I just got a nice note of encouragement from ponyTail though I had to chuckle at, "Sweetheart, the early morning crew is all about support and caring." When did that happen??? Times have changed! The early morning crew use to be about backstabbing and killing yourself in front of everyone trying a stunt that would be stupid at seventeen when you still had cartilage and flexibility; probably an ironMan influence. Word on the street is ironMan's a member of some highfalutin gym that's closer to his home and shortens his commute by about an hour. I bet he looks great, I should probably change his name to ironAdonis or something like that.

Thirty minutes on the elliptical; one must protect one knees in one's dotage. Gawd I hate this machine, I'm doing intervals and sweating, which is the point. I'm listening to They Might Be Giants (don't judge me) investigating if Boss of Me (Malcolm in the Middle theme song) was their high water mark or not. So far ... yeah.

Why I, why I'm in this room
There is no point explaining
You're not the boss of me now, and you're not so big

Two days in a row, covered in god-like sweat I head for the showers.