While the rest of the world debated the application of Rule 33-7, I dragged myself to the gym today.  Over the past week I have beaten myself to a pulp.  Today was supposed to be an off day but somehow I found myself at EFC. 

Everything is going great.  My weight has been a constant 187 for a few weeks now.  My last two pair of pants are in danger of falling off.  I would feel great except for several gym-related injuries.  Last week I overdid the weights and, as a result, I have a sharp pain in both my shoulders and in my forearms at the elbow.  My knuckles are sore and my wrist is sprained thanks to the punching bag.  Actually, the sprain came from poor form on the punching bag.  But, when a 100-pound bag of sand has you in a corner, you swing away with abandon.

Master Starks and old buddy Derek will certainly appreciate the lesson learned here – a bad form injury leads to better form in the future.  It all works out for the good.  The other injuries are good too; they are proof I’m doing something right, if a bit too much too fast.

Back to the bag: I see others gingerly tapping away sometimes.  They throw cute, fast flurries of “punches” insufficient to budge the sandman.  Not me.  When I hit, I hit to harm.  When I kick, it can be fatal – at least to bags.  The afore-mentioned ass-kickers will recall long ago when I sheared the half-inch steel bolt holding up a bag clean off.  The bag slammed into an i-beam and fell dead on the floor.  That required a lot of power.  Cute and power don’t usually reside near each other.  Anyway, I ramble…

(I felt sluggish… Google.)

Today when I arrived at the gym I had pre-decided against any martial arts.  As my upper body felt like diseased jello I figured a leg routine was in order.  It wasn’t.  It seems I have another bad form injury from a sidekick which has left one leg in a drastically weakened state.  Also, no matter what I did everything else hurt too.  After flopping around helplessly for half an hour and watching some 20ish year-old girl demonstrate convincingly the benefits of “kick-backs,” I headed up stairs. 

There I discovered that even crunches hurt places they ordinarily would not.  That left me with one option – cardio.  So, I limped over to an elliptical machine and, after great effort, placed myself thereon.  Then, for some unknown reason, energy kicked in.  I ellipted away for a whole hour and over 700 calories.  It may have been an all-time best for me (especially given my status). 

When I finished I had enough power to crawl to the inverter and teetered there for about ten blissful minutes.  A long steam and a shower later and I felt a whole lot better.  It’s two hours after the fact (and after lunch) and I still feel good!  That, friends, is the power of fitness! 

Maybe tomorrow morning I’ll go for my usual early workout.  Maybe I’ll be back in tip-top condition.  Maybe I’ll just sleep in and load up on Advil.  I know for certain there will be coffee.