Huh,

[digitaldiscipline]

Took the kettlebells for a walk at lunchtime for the first time in ages; the weather was beautiful (60 and sunny, with a breeze), and while I didn't feel like I was going all that quickly, the clock on the wall at the office gym said 22:40 had elapsed, which meant I knocked about two minutes off my PR for the task.

Haven't been getting under the bar in the garage as much the last couple of weeks (laying hands on 40 degree hunks of iron sucks), but I did manage a few sessions, and have been working on various bodyweight things (dips, L-sits, handstand pushups with limited ROM). I've also been vexing the shit out of my masseuse, because every time she makes progress in one place (first my upper back, then my upper arms), it reveals something else that's peripherally fucked up (hips, my left gracillus, and the glenohumeral joint where both pecs attach).

Beyond that, not much going on. Work continues apace, and the bar for kicking sufficient ass has been raised (and a tangible reward proffered for clearing it). Having a low-key time of the holidays.

It is what it is.

Comments

[david-deacon.livejournal.com]

Now that I've lost eighty pounds and no longer look like Private Pyle from Full Metal Jacket, I might try some of your exercise regimen. There wasn't much point to it before. I'd like to get back on the "market," and since I'm back to human scale as far as weight is concerned, I think I can whip myself into shape (before I contemplate doing same to anyone else). I like myself better like this. I look in the mirror and think, "I'm actually fuckable." That hasn't happened in awhile.