Where is Thy Sting

OK, I said Thursday would be my blog night and here it is Thursday,sort of. I actually started this laptop up before midnight but it is way beyond slow booting up and getting the internet going. Now I know why Pete left it booted up all the time and why he got a new one.

The title of this blog is a continuation of my previous one but it really has nothing to do with death, unless you consider the death of brain cells that I should have used to keep me from hiring Danny to be my personal trainer. He's been studying to take the certification test in October so somehow I thought it would be a grand idea for me to be his first client. Why wouldn't he want to try his newly acquired knowledge on an old fat man? Besides, I offered him room and board.

We decided to have one-hour workouts three days a week, on Monday Wednesday and Friday at 1:00 since the weight room at the old gym on base is almost empty at that time and I wouldn't embarrass him too much. Monday was rapidly approaching.

It's the monsoon season here in the Sonoran desert and it actually rained Sunday night and early Monday morning. It was a nice soaking rain, rain that inspired me to get up early and pull the weeds in the front yard (weeds bother me). There were many and I decided that was enough exercise for the day, maybe not the same as pumping iron, but enough. so Wednesday became day one of Danny's project to make me the man of my dreams.

1:00 indeed rolled around and there I was with Dan and his notebook in a room full of machines from the Spanish Inquisition. He had me do three sets of eight reps on various and sundry torture devices until the hour was almost up and he topped the session off with some "crunches" and a particularly devious exercise that I'm sure has been outlawed by the Geneva Convention. He called it a "plank" I think. It consists of resting on your forearms then raising your body to roughly the same position as a push up. It's supposed to be an indicator of how strong your "core" is. He said Bekah could hold the position for 15 seconds...I made it to three. "Try to make it to five," he says. I make it to three. Third try gets me to maybe four. "We'll work on this," he says.

All in all, I was satisfied with the workout even though my crunches were more like just being able to get my head off the floor. I am looking forward to Friday. I felt fine this morning other that the semi-usual excruciating stabbing pains that accompany my gift of diabetes. I was even motivated to mow the back yard (remember the rain? It made the grass grow). Now comes the sting part.

Since the lawn mowing and walking around Bookman's while Bella was at activity day(night) my feet, both of them, have felt like they are on fire. I put them in the pool, along with the rest of me, and let them soak until they were all wrinkled. Ah, much better now. Enough so I can can feel all those muscles I abused yesterday saying "Hey Ronnie, remember us?" Oh yeah, you guys...Ow.