The best thing that can be said about yesterday’s edition of Pure Cardio is that I got through it.
The weather was a blah mix of cold, rain and wind that looked like November. (I don’t know exactly when I started associating awfulness with November, but it’s about as bad as you can get on the BWN scale, other than Jimmy John’s.)
I’m not going to disclose the details, but let’s just say that the threat of shitting your pants while doing suicide drills isn’t exactly my cup of tea. I also had a little spittle-up due to excessive water chugging during a break. I’m not sure I considered it a real vomit, but some foodstuffs came up with it.
For whatever reason, my hips suddenly decided to start getting ridiculously sore. Correction. For ‘whatever reason’ is that it was cold and rainy. I’ve recently started finding gray hairs. Now my hips provide a weather report. My hairline is receding. I’m twentyfuckingsix. I’m having a crisis, you guys.
Today was supposed to be my cardio recovery day, but thanks to my alma mater and the pretentious institution up the road trotting out 14 pitchers on Tuesday night, I’m forced to do Plyometric Cardio Circuit today.
I’m guessing I should probably provide a weigh-in update fairly soon. I feel great overall (other than Greg Fishel hip) and I can tell I’ve lost some amount of weight. My clothes are definitely fitting better, and my bitchtits aren’t as pronounced in my smedium Polos. The hope is that the Polos soon revert to regular medium status shortly.
With some extra calories to spend, I worked in some Hot Pocket Nacho Bites for dinner, and watched some Chappelle.
All in all, it was a good night and a good lesson. I got through a workout while fending off diarrhea and ailing hips. A few months ago, I would have quit 5 minutes in.
Hey Insanity. Fuck yo couch.