Total Body Bleh!

Well yesterday I could take it no longer and around 3PM chowed down the Clif Bar. I wish I could adequately describe for my wife how it was soft and chewy and filled with chocolaty GOODNESS! The way the oats crunched under the molars with just the right amount of resistance. All the textures and various flavors... why is that a hint of cinnamon? I was thinking, "I simply MUST share this with my beloved..." when suddenly I noticed there was only a tiny square left! It would be cruel to give her such a small morsel. I popped the rest in my mouth and licked my fingers. I'll keep my eye out for them in the future, at over a buck a bar that was a nice gift for me.

I'm always looking for new addictions :-)

I also noticed about noon some lactic acid burn in the ol' thighs. Not sure if I went anaerobic A LOT or a bit. I'm thinking I'm OK all in all and will continue to strive for 150 on the tempo workouts until I plateau.

This morning I woke up at 4:50, switched off the alarm and climbed out of bed. I wasn't into it. I mean who's into anything at 4:50am? I eat a banana and fill the water bottle and head in.

I use to scoff at the people boring on and on about, you need to drink eighty gallons of water a day, just to survive! Now I carry my little USPS water bottle everywhere sucking on the blasted thing like I'm in the Sahara desert. That water bottle has become something of a talisman for me. Back when I was first getting interested in bicycling my staff (at the time) chipped in and bought if for me as a Christmas present. So it's pretty special to me and helps bring me the will to exercise.

Today I'm attempting to cut down on the time for the total body workout. So I hop on the elliptical set it for some level, eight I think and get on with it. My wonderful trainer sent me an email yesterday with a link to the DB Lunge for me to look over along with the following corrections to the image, "With the link above, there are a couple of corrections that I would make - take a bigger front step & lower back knee and also keep torso tall while taking the step forward AND lowering your back knee!" During the euphemistically named Dynamic Warm-Up routines I practice that form. Oh yeah, that sucks.

After double knotting and duct-taping my shoelaces down I get on the treadmill and it reminds me of how much FUN I'm going to have on it during interval training tomorrow. I struggle with form on this today, I seemed to struggle with form on lunges too. Later it occurred to me in the shower that doing five lunges right and stopping probably has more value than doing fifteen wrong or half-assed. Today I seemed to opt for half-assed, sigh.

All the while the stair climber was leering in its corner. I finally get to it and do five minutes at level five with a max heart rate of 153. I don't think you can do that machine half-assed, if you do you fall off of it like a I Love Lucy skit gone horribly awry. But something is amiss... sweat isn't falling off me like the monsoon season and yeah my thighs burn and I don't want to do it but it didn't seem as bad. Don't get me wrong I'm in no way thinking I'm ready to up the level on that bad boy or the time but maybe I'm making progress (?).

I did the crunches which I oddly enjoy (not so much the alternating supermans), stretch and head for the showers. All in about an hours time.
The scale has started its siren call but I'm ignoring it at the moment. Ever since it bitch slapped me with that extra half pound I've been keeping my distance. I haven't drawn in my belt a notch (my other metric) yet which is depressing but I'm trying to keep my spirits up. I tried for a notch on Sunday and managed to do it but it felt a lot like I imagine a nineteenth century woman felt struggling into a corset.

I noticed when I got up to get my morning oatmeal and coffee that I apparently pulled a muscle I didn't know I had high up on my left thigh near the joint. Maybe I did do some of those DB lunges almost right. The workout today felt bleh for lack of a better word. Something to be gotten through, there was no joy.

I must be patient.

Tempo Tuesday

Well I'm in day two of my routine, having completed the tempo workout and now looking forward to the total body workout with all the anticipation of one who knows what's coming.

Getting up so gosh darn early in the morning has its pros and cons. One of the pros is that my workout for the day is over. One of the cons is I haven't eaten yet when I start these workouts. I think I got a wittle hypoglycemic yesterday during the workout which would explain the crying jags of yesterday mmhmm. Seriously though I felt, what's the medical term, oh yeah, 'ucky' until I wolfed down the morning oatmeal.

Ever the experimenter I ate a banana on my way out to the door to the gym. Just a little something to tide me over during the workout. I don't want to eat too much, like that tray of brownies I know the precise location of in the kitchen. It's considered very bad form to vomit all over the equipment. Um, so I've heard... yeah.

I find a note in my shoe when I'm lacing up in the locker room.

Your mission Mr. Weird Cult Person, should you choose to accept it is to keep your heart rate between 65-75% for thirty to forty-five minutes! You may use any machine.

Indeed.

I decide that I'm gonna try for 150bpm for thirty minutes, you know, just to see how that feels - this will put me at 74% using the trainer's max HR calculation and 87% using mine. If I'm at a true 87% then I should be an anaerobic mess. I'm liking the elliptical more and more for this kind of work - I feel like I can control the heart rate.

As I'm getting on the machine one of the 'early risers' calls out that he's reading my blog and finds it interesting. I really don't know what to say to that except thanks! Knowing that folk are checking on me keeps me going into the gym. I think of him as an early riser because he really is one. He and his buddy are in the gym at some ungodly hour it seems, like they came in yesterday and are just now finishing up or something. I idly wonder if I'll ever beat them in during the work week. I probably don't want to get up that early to find out!

I begin upping the level of the machine to nine or so to get the heart rate up and around minute six I'm good. I seem to be having a bit of trouble keeping it there so I up the level to ten and that does the trick. I did a quick start so I'm having to do math - bitter sigh - to figure out the length I want to be in this HR range.

Around this time I break out into glorious sweat. It's running down my forehead and into my eyes reminding me that I really should wear a bandanna. I can't explain it but I love when that happens, it feels like I'm actually working towards something. Whatever, pardon my writing skills - I can't quite communicate the feeling of it.

With about ten minutes to go my trainer comes in! She's giving someone one of those body assessments and I'm half wondering, what's to assess? This person looks great. Maybe it was like her tenth assement or something and they're just checking progress.

I call out to my trainer asking her to check on me with regards to how I'm doing. I tell her that I'm going for thirty at 150bpm and you know how do I sound?

It's not coming out right! I think it comes across as bragging to her like I'm saying, "Look at me! I'm about to go 30 minutes at 150bpms behold me with WONDER!"

What I'm trying to ascertain is at 150 I'm thinking that might be a good upper rate for me. On her scale and my little heart chart at the right there it puts me smack in the middle of 'Aerobic (Cardio training/Endurance)' and I'm thinking that's exactly what it feels like. I know I can't get near 160 and hold it yet, that definitely feels anaerobic to me (stupid stair climber!).

She says I'm doing great and asks about the shoe laces and my muscle pull.

"You read my blog???"

"Yeah, I sent you an email last night."

I'm thinking, "Grandpa was probably already in bed." but I'm delighted that she read it some, she's checking on me! Maybe if I would just stop babbling it could be of real use... nah - I'll just keep the metrics at the top and the babble after that.

I want to ask her about my DB lunge technique but A) I'm on the elliptical so it's kinda hard to demonstrate and B) she's working with someone else.

I listen to her and the other lady talk and I'm not gonna blog it but our trainer has high hopes and I'm giddy with excitement for her! All the best on that front!

I do some stretches and head to the showers. I also note that the banana seems to have helped. I'll try that again for tomorrow's ordeal.

When I get out of the showers... When I get out of the locker room I look for my trainer so I can ask her about the 'On Step DB Lunge' but she's no where to be found. I hear some chanting coming out of the basketball court and head down that way, I peer carefully in not sure I really want to see. My trainer and a bunch of other folk (acolytes?) are laying on their backs with their legs over big rubber balls chanting some gibberish about lifting.

And I thought MY cult was strange.

I've come to a few conclusions. First the trainers' time is extremely valuable. They are BUSY! Thing is I happen to like both of them so I can get into a trap where I just want to clown around with them and shoot the breeze. The time I'm hanging around there isn't the best time for them, they're just ramping up. But yesterday the other trainer plopped right down on the floor and illustrated perfect 'Basic Mat Crunches' when I was asking if I was doing them right. He was a little shy about showing the 'On Step DB Lunge' since he wasn't certain of the form my trainer was after.

My point being, BOTH of them will stop what they're doing and help if they can.

Second, they care if you care. In other words if you put the time in they'll put their time in you. That's fair. The little email I got from my trainer will do wonders for my motivation! Here's what it said:

Subject: How's your muscles and did you get NEW shoelaces??

I'll be in at 6 am to see how things are going -- I read you blog today!! The HR chart is showing the right results! Way to go, Bill!

But I'm getting even more motivation. People in the gym seeing I'm trying to hang in there are helping too with comments like, "You got through another one." And my wife, kids and parents are saying they're proud of me.

I race back to my desk to check my email and on it is this 'Clif Bar - Chocolate Chip' and a note that reads, "Bill - Give this a shot - they taste GREAT - your buddy in fitness"

OMG! I almost devour it on the spot but decide that patience sets us apart from the lower orders. This will be my afternoon treat! Unfortunately my wife has discovered its existence. She spends some time trying to convince me that the 'peanut traces' will certainly kill me. NICE TRY HONEY. I've carefully hidden this treasure... for later. Thank you so much exercise buddy!

Thanks to all of you! Knowing you're about helps me climb one more step but more importantly gets me out of bed in the morning and in the gym, even when I really don't wanna.

Later gators!

Monday's Muscle Pulls

I've been hearing here and there that there are people actually reading this blog. I've been surprised in a few meetings or wondering around, er, managing by wondering around when someone would mention that they've seen it.

I really just want to give a sincere Thank You!!! to those that do peep this out from time to time, it really does help. So, um, thanks! :-)

I was talking to one of the trainers today and he said something that caught my ear, "Exercise should energize," and then went on to say that if you're not feeling that way you might want to back off a bit. He's been doing this gig for eighteen years and so has oodles of experience and the most common thing he sees is people coming out of the gates too fast and three months later they're gone. I do not want to end up in that stat column.

Here's the thing. I am feeling oodles of energy, well OK, how about I'm feeling better? But this energy thing might have led to yesterday's fun and games fiasco. The lesson I need to take away (I think) is that on a rest day you really shouldn't push it. Next Sunday I may not go in at all (sweat breaks out across forehead) or maybe just go in for a long sauna.

So this morning at 4:54am the alarm goes off and I climb out of bed and am greeted by a nice pulled muscle. I want to say its the thigh but that's not quite right, when you lift your leg up to put on a sock. OH BABY! Yeah it's that one. I pop a few Tylenol to deal with that.

I start my total body workout and don't hit any snags until I get to 'On Step DB Lunge' because I'm not sure how to do it. I do my best but I want someone who knows what they're doing to give me a look-see. Oh and by the way the treadmill totally destroyed me in the five and a half minutes we were together. At 4:45 my double knotted shoe lace came untied which was irritating but I just went the distance. These shoes must be near end of life - sheesh!

If you look at the odd laps, those were the times with the machines. Elliptical, treadmill and stair climber. During my time with the stair climber I mentioned that I was REALLY SORRY I gave it some 'tude on Saturday, I was drunk! It didn't buy it and just kept remorselessly chugging along. Gawd I hate that machine!
Well tomorrow is 'Tempo Workout' - should be fun.

Be well.

Sunday: Fun and Games

Now that I'm under a exercise routine today is my 'rest' day. My trainer said, "You can come in and do another long burn like you did on Saturday or nothing at all."

As if.

After church I told my wife that today was a rest day, time for fun and games. While idly examining my fingernails I casually mention that yesterday I did 120 beats per minute for over an hour and can do 144 for at least forty. I make eye contact and raise my eyebrows up and down lecherously.

She returns that piteous stare I've become well acquainted with ever since I, well, became hormonally aware. Women remain a wonderful mystery to me, but this is one look I can read.

She shoves my gym bag in my arms. It probably isn't a great idea playing those types of games at 12:30pm on a Sunday with both kids in the house bored and looking for stuff to do. Plenty of time to scar them later!

By the time I get to the gym I still don't know what I'll do but I had decided it would be cardio because I had this need to sweat. I think it's the rush after an OK workout that I'm becoming addicted to, the endorphin high. I didn't want to do the full hour thing because there are a bunch of 'honey dos' piling up around the house and other things that must be done. Finally I have that total body workout I had on Friday to repeat on Monday.

There are a fair number of folk there, around six. I hop on a recombinant bicycle and idly pedal waiting for the display to come on. I'm not in the mood for 'fat burner' when I notice this button called, "More workouts..."

Hmmmmm.

I go through some options like 'Heart Blowout' and 'Death by Dehydration' before finding one called 'Target Heart Rate.'

That sounds fun!

Here are the rules. You enter your age and weight and whatnot and then the machine makes some suggestions like 'Target Heart Rate 144?' and I say 'sure!' and then it asks 'how long?' and I say two minutes. Next, 'Resting Heart Rate 115?' and I reply back, 'You're the boss!' and then it asks 'How Long?' and I say two minutes. Finally is asks, 'Length of workout' and I say forty minutes.

And we're off. I'm not sure how to play but I start jacking up the level to get my heart rate up but it takes about five minutes and I'm around level 13 on the bike and just dying.

Why this game isn't fun at all!

Around minute five I hit the target heart rate and this countdown clock starts from two minutes. I hold my Heart Rate above 144 for two minutes and the machine backs off the level to get my heart rate down. When it gets to 117 or so another count down clock starts and I get two minutes of relief.

When that's done I have a handle on the game. I want to jack my HR right up there as quickly as I can so that I can get through those two minutes and stall during cool down.

I do pretty well until around minute thirty (ten minutes to go) when I decided I had played enough and I'm frantically trying to figure out how to turn the last ten minutes into a yummy cool down. It is a rest day after all.

I decide to try and hold my HR above 120 and coast out.

The prick machine is wise to me. It must have seen this maneuver before. After a bit of humming along at 120 it goes, 'close enough' and starts the timer. With about four minutes to go it drops me into a higher level which feels a lot like dropping a bike into a 'big ring' gear.

I don't wanna but after a minute or so my addled mind decides to play fair and I let the machine work its will on me. With about thirty seconds to go I hit the target HR.

During cool down I keep wondering, "What have I done?" I have my first unescorted full body workout tomorrow and I should be fresh for that. Oh well, damage done, tomorrow will tell and I'll tell you.

Hectic Saturday

Well this entire day got away from me. I woke up at 5am to get my workout done so I could go see my son wrestle in a tournament. Today is a 'rest' day meaning I'm suppose to do an hour at low intensity. I can take tomorrow off, fat chance but I'm not sure what I'm going to do on that day. Probably practice those 'warm up' drills my trainer has in mind for me and some time on the bike.

Oddly no one is at the gym at this time of day, go figure. I was debating about doing thirty on the elliptical and thirty on the bike. The elliptical decided it for me. I chose quick start and it gives me some insolent, "Sixty minutes or are you...

A PANSY?!"

I push 'Bring it!' and it is on!

Only then did I notice the mistakes I had made, fool that I am. When I got in, I tuned in FoxNews on one TV and Fox on another since that station was showing the beautiful people yakking about how 'tough' their latest shoot was since they had to get up at 4am and act for twelve straight hours before getting their twenty million dollar paycheck.

::rolls eyes::

So I'm humping along on the elliptical when suddenly Fox treacherously switches to infomercials. Some is dude trying to convince me it's in all our interests if I buy Franklin Mint coins and FoxNews doesn't have it's closed caption on so I can't follow much there except some doctor and his former wife are in a battle royal over the kidney he gave her during the days of wine and roses. Life is strange.

But it's quiet and BORING and I'm stuck on this machine because I simply can not get off of it to turn on the radio, so deep is my psychosis.

The gym periodically emits this noise that sounds exactly like someone playing racquetball. Ghosts of past matches I suppose as I trudge along in the haunted gym.

I've got a nice sweat going but I'm not really pushing it, I just want to go the distance with an average heart rate of 120 and it looks like I'm going to do that. Vengeance for my failed attempt on Wednesday.

With about five minutes left another soul enters the gym. He asks if I minded if he turned on the radio. He looks askance at me when I blurt out, "Dear sweet, merciful Lord, please turn on the radio!"

I finish out my routine to The Weight and Baba O'reilly. As I entered cool down I began thinking, back on the 28th of December I lasted four whole minutes on this machine before staggering off it in despair. Today I just went sixty five :-)

I eye the stair climber before I head to the showers.

Not to sound too much the proud papa but my son won a match in his wrestling tournament. His first win! How cool is that? I am eternally grateful that I got to be there when it happened!

Wanna see?

Training Session

Her eyes are everywhere! I'm under constant observation like a lab rat. I must be careful, no eye contact - 'they' can get an instant read on body fat that way, I must blend in.

I thought at the time she was joking last week in the lunchroom with the fingers to the eyes jabbing a finger at me, I'm watching you sign. Now I know better, oh yes indeed I'm wise to this game!

Yesterday, I'm coming out of the cafeteria after running one of those frantic I've got a one-o'clock errands with my (current favorite) lunch of a veggie burger and tater tots. A mixed message I know when suddenly I hear from the second floor balcony, "Whatcha got there?"

Drat! One of the trainer's minions.

I can't really hide the tater-tots since they seemed to have multiplied all over my plate like so many deep fried carbohydrate bunnies but I gamely call out that I have a VEGGIE-burger here... and a PICKLE! Too late, he's gone, probably reporting in to central command. I'll have to hide the tater-tots, donuts and other weaknesses under a layer of lettuce. It's now quite apparent why I see so many folk with monster salads, I've been a fool.

On a slightly more serious note what I'm noticing going on with me now is that there are these little battles running through my head at the checkout line, "Do you REALLY want that Ho Ho? I mean go ahead if you want but you've already put in so much effort attempting to get rid of the seven hundred you ate last year, is it worth it?" I can feel my mindset shifting. Weird. What I don't want to happen is that I become too enamored with that type of reductionism, I want the battles to continue and I want the dark side to occasionally win, just not too often; because, truly the stair climber sucks.

So I show up at the gym this morning and get ready. The trainer is in her office staring into her PC, probably watching YouTube of 'the tater-tot incident' from yesterday. She gets up and pulls out my routine and says to go ahead and do five minutes on the elliptical to get my heart rate up. I comply, curious about what happens next.

Next were these dynamic warm-up exercises and I am forming the impression about midway through that there's nothing 'warm up' about them. Oh yeah, I'm warm and getting sweaty. Apparently I'm not doing my triple lutz correctly which is how I'm feeling about some of these warm-ups, ungainly and very uncoordinated. I pay close attention and try again. She opts for having me do the squat - shoulder flexion & extension of despair with a big rubber ball that I press against the wall. I get what she's trying to do, form is important or you don't suffer as much and its all about getting fit. I'm suppose to do twelve reps of each of these and thennnnnn I'm all warmed up!

Instead I feel like I'm about midway through the workout.

Now I'm looking at the routine having just taken it a few hours ago and I'm staring at this entry called 'SB Wall Squat' and I will tell you true, I don't have a CLUE what that is anymore. Thank heavens for google, it looks like this. Now I remember it and now I remember why I blotted it out of my memory.

Then I did this 'Chest Press Machine' where she was asking about how difficult it was for me near the end of my reps at such and such a weight (50 lbs), "On a scale from one to five, five being the hardest, hows it feel?"

"Seven." My rapidly deteriorating mental acuity having garbled what she said into, "On a scale of five to ten..." A bizarre scale I thought but I'm not the trainer am I?

She looks alarmed, studying me closely, "Oh!"

I hear what she was asking and I say, "Three." Sheesh!

Next, five minutes on the treadmill where she instructs me on how to use that properly, barking out all sorts of commands until the settings are correct while studying my HR monitor. Of course my treacherous shoe lace came undone around minute four. I silently pray she doesn't notice.

"Stop the machine!"

"Oh come on I can make it!" I gasp like those wounded dudes you see in the movies who don't have a prayer.

"Stop the machine!"

I sigh and tie my shoe, stupid shoe lace.

Then on to some lateral pull downs followed by some DB Lunges on a step which are NO FUN!

When I'm all docile and complacent from all this exercise (exhaustion) she says, "OK, now five to ten minutes on the StepMill or the Bike."

I bee line for the bike.

"Um, nooooo. I'm thinking the StepMill today," she says while staring into my eyes with the cold flat stare of the professional fitness trainer. Her whole body language immediately shifting into this weird, "Wanna tangle over this?" posture.

I meekly head towards the stupid StepMill, lamb that I am.

She starts me at level one for about nine seconds before ramping me rapidly up to the dreaded level five. She's paying attention to the HR monitor and me letting me bleat and moan about this outrage until I run out of breath.

She asks, "How much time left? The machine should be counting down from twenty..."

I'm staring around the display trying to find the clock which is the large counting down thing in the upper left hand corner while simultaneously thinking, "Oh GREAT now I have to do math too?"

"About four minutes," I gasp in despair.

"GREAT!"

Um, yeah. Sweat is pouring off of me and I mean that quite literally, just drip drip dripping into this puddle at the lip where the stairs come out.

Around minute three I become delusional as I idly wonder, "Is there any way I could look more attractive then I do now, gasping for breath, lumbering up these steps covered in sweat?" And then it hits me. Flossing! If I had both fists crammed into my mouth working some little string between my teeth while marching up these endless steps every chick in this gym would swoon. I guarantee it!

"How much time left?" calls some distant voice.

Eh? I glance around the display and wheeze out, "About a minute."

"Dial it back to three for your cool down."

Gladly!

After I was done sobbing and finally calming down we wrapped up the routine by doing some core body strength exercises. Pelvic Tilts, Basic Mat Crunch, and Alternating Supermans.

Followed by a five minute cool down which consisted of me heading straight for the shower. Here's the chart, it think it's pretty obvious when I was doing cardio :-)
So here I sit finishing this entry up.

Wanna know a secret? I feel GREAT! Not sure about tomorrow but right here, right now, well it's a good feeling.

Breaking up the Cardio

Yesterday I was seeking advice from two friends who are very serious athletes and have been doing this for a long time. Both are telling me that doing anything at all is good. One of them sent the following advice:

Bottom line is this:
<> 85% anerobic you train in this range to get faster and move to another "competitive" level (Z3)

you don't get the benefits of anaerobic (only pain and suffering) until you spend several weeks (8-12) doing aerobic base building.

during the aerobic phase you mix rest days (Z1) with harder days (Z2). Over time the harder days increase in duration. Initially maybe you spend 15- 20 minutes in Z2 with a 20 minute warm up and 20 minute warm down. each week you increase the Z2 time by 10% to where you eventually can do 45- 60 minutes in Z2 without much trouble. I wouldn't do more than 3-4 days of Z2 work each week. The off days should be 45-60 minutes in Z1 to recover. Every 10-14 days take one day off completely, or go for a long walk. Doing the hard/easy thing keeps you fresh. You can go harder on your hard days and get more benefit. It also keeps you mentally fresh, going out and beating yourself into submission everyday gets old and you burn out.

Even if you don't compete, I would still recommend doing some Z3 work eventually. Its tough, but it keeps you from getting stale and hitting a plateau. On a bike/run you can accomplish it (z3) pretty easy by riding a hilly course or doing hill repeats.

Stick to it consistently and you will see results, but it will take some time.

So, I was sorta doing that (OK, Okay I wasn't sorta doing that - sheesh!) but I'm going to pay a bit more heed to it now and so I came in today with the mindset that today is a 'light' day. So assuming my max heart rate is 173 then according to the above:

• Z1 less than 113bpm
• Z2 113 - 148bpm (130 is 75%)
• Z3 > 148bpm

I also know that my core body strength needs to be built up so I'm going to mess around with trying some 'planks' after my workout, because I'm certain they're easy and all, mmhmm.

Ambling on the bike felt OK and even though I only did 111bpm average it was a rest day. I'm shooting the breeze with people in the gym, cracking jokes a bit. When did that happen? Anyway it's cool and makes the time go better.

Yesterday my trainer sent me my exercise routine. It's a spreadsheet filled with currently meaningless gibberish that will soon become numbers I understand and then begin to obsess over a lot like I'm beginning to obsess about my heart rate. What fun!

I probably shouldn't tell you this but, um, I'm cheating on my weight, I keep sneaking peeks at it like the little perv I am. Big mistake and I've got to cut that crap out. Today my weight caught me, gasped, stormed up to me and bitch-slapped me with an additional half pound over yesterdays weight. Sigh, I'll try and behave.

Naturally I thought the scale was off and needed recalibrating. So I zero it out and, aha! it is off!!! I begin slowly teasing the pound thing up snickering like Wile E. Coyote as the number climbed. Right around three pounds I realized I was standing on the scale. BLUSH! Stupid scale. It was zeroed.

As I was going through the cafeteria some ladies called out from their table, "Where's the blog entry?" I let them know its in progress and I'm thinking, "Boy there sure are a whole lot of girls hoping and praying I'll get better looking... HEY WAIT A MINUTE!" :-)

I can't wait for tomorrow! Six AM tomorrow my trainer instructs me on new and exciting implements of destruction and after my trip to the ER I'll let you know how that little escapade went!

Here's the chart for today - I think I only did one thing wrong, I needed to go LONGER. Be well