Skipping

I skipped a day in my blog, yesterday. What of it? I wrote a long email to team Puck yesterday and I could easily run out of words if I attempted to blog too.

It was a reasonable day though. Exercises were smooth and I finally managed 50 jumps continuously. It gives me a great sense of schadenfreude to read about everyone else's aching calves form the skipping. I've been getting used to running almost-barefoot for over a year and have luckily lived through all of that calf pain already, and much more - using your calves as a combined shock-absorber-cum-spring while running is way more of a strain than skipping. But I guess others can feel a similar superiority over my lack of coordination and still-too-short skipping-rope that regularly clips my almost-bald-spot. Every single hair I have left in that defoliated area is precious and here I am mowing that struggling patch of dirt. This also messes up the timing, so it may be a good idea to seek out a different rope.

I capitulated last night and had a glass of wine. This still means that since we started I've had about 1/20th of the alcohol I would have on a good weekend. But get this: my body rejected it - I woke up in the middle of the night, a struggling dehydrated dipsomaniac and couldn't sleep for the following 2 hours. Has Patrick already broken my body's ability to process wine - nature's wonder-food? (you may later hear me refer to potatoes as nature's wonder-food - don't think me a hypocrite - I'm just an enthusiastic Irishman with a short memory). I didn't sign up for alcohol allergies; if I end up lactose-intolerant and unable to enjoy cheese too I will be seeking a refund at best and preferably a torturous revenge (a dish which is, much like sashimi, best served cold and prepared with a sharp knife - I may even dip my revenge in wasabi).

So after the poor sleep and the very minor but more unexpected hangover, exercises this morning were hard to get into. The lunges in particular were much burnier than usual. In good news, though, I knocked out my first full set of honest-to-god on-my-toes pushups ... possibly ever. I can already feel my man-boobs filling with rippling man-beef.

Hmm. That doesn't sound filthy, does it?

I skipped skipping as I'm leaving it for a treat when I get home from work.

Addendum: I also found a three-tier George Foreman vegetable steamer for $39 - I asked for a deal if I bought it with a grill and I got the pair for 74 big ones - less than half-price. I am now fully healthy-food mass-production capable. Let's hope I don't get floored by any e.coli infested bean-sprouts.