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My Extra Five Pound Weights

As I mentioned. Briefly. And not at all whinily. In my previous 169.2 post. I have basically collected the equivalent of eight extra five-pound weights. That I’m carrying up and down mountains every weekend or so.

It makes it far more challenging than necessary. I’m usually trying to keep up with Beautiful Beastie, after all. I’m sure she’d carry them for me. And still beast her way up the mountain 20 minutes ahead of me. But I can’t seem to extract the weights from my body to hand them to her. And asking her to carry my ass, literally, up the mountain seems inappropriate. And I’m nothing if not appropriate.

And carrying those extra weights makes for more injuries. My right Achilles has been threatening to tear completely away from my body and just move out on its own. Independence is preferable to what I’m putting it through right now.

As such, I have successfully made a solid return to PlayFITStayFIT. So I should be dropping one of those 5-pound weights any day now. (It only takes, like, a week or two, right? I mean, I ate an apple yesterday and everything.)

(And obviously the gym family is super happy about my return. Because I am nothing but Sunshine and positivity when I’m fitnessing. I just bring happiness wherever I go.)

I even declined a run up Roanoke Mountain yesterday in favor of leg day at the gym.

Because Roanoke Mountain is all road. And road doesn’t offer a soft landing for right Achilles who is forced to absorb the impact of eight extra five-pound weights on the way down.

And I’m trying to save as much goodwill between right Achilles and I up as possible for Saturday. Where I’ll try to run as many five mile loops as I can. Up to six. On the road. With 50 other people.

Not sure if my Achilles or my social has more anxiety about that.

But there’s food and beer involved. So mouth and stomach say we’re going. Give us back that five-pound weight we’ve definitely lost over the last week.

Anyway. Leg day yesterday involved this contraption.

Yes. Yes that is a Medieval torture device.

There really is something not quite right happening inside of J-Vicious’s brain.

And when Saucy (formerly known as [Insert Name Here] – well done LL for coming up with that one) brought a friend for the next class. We were all expected to be on our best behavior. (Don’t act natural.)

But at that point we’d already all turned on each other. Wives no longer speaking to husbands. Husbands having to find new couches to sleep on.

And me…just hating everyone.

Oh don’t mind us. We’re just happily dragging this torture device around the gym without complaint.

But. Right Achilles didn’t complain once during that entire workout. Nope. He was just back there giggling at quads and hammies and hip flexors. And thinking about what to order with the $25 Uber Eats coupon we’d just received.

(He chose Mexican.)

(Yes, I’d like to order two five-pound weights, please.)

(It’s fine. I only ate a reasonable portion. The leftovers are sitting on top of my refrigerator. Should last me through Friday.)

(I’d explain that last part, but I feel like I probably already have in some previous post. And I like to focus on one issue at a time here. Like therapy. So just don’t worry about it.)

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Just reading and writing and running and looking for my happy place.

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