Two Swiss Cake packs,
The craving was too much,
I fought it hard for two days,
But it’s Saturday, a common cheat day.

Before that…

Three eggs, scrambled,
Cheese, pepper, and hot sauce,
Only because the pan was hot and eggs were out,
Kind of like a dinner,


I ate early,
Like 3:30 early when I went vegan meat stuff
And housed three tacos, again, cheese and hot sauce,
Because I was starving,


The oatmeal, avocado, vanilla protein almond milk shake
Did not take after the workout.
I’ve heard not to drink my calories,
But this was delicious and I was ravenous,


Working out
On a bagel with honey and cinnamon,
Washed down with tasty home cold brew sumatra,
Didn’t have the staying power to settle my hunger.

Back at it tomorrow…

Less than two hours,
That’s how long it took,
Took to break in new trail shoes,
Fresh out of the box,
Straight into the melting snow mud.

It was great running with my daughter,
The company light,
The air crisp,
The land free,
Simply a beautiful day.

Nine pounds,
I heard that was the average weight gain…

Between Thanksgiving and New Year’s.

Trending that way, I needed to make a change,
Nothing major, just better eating.
Instead of stuffing my face and being the bottom feeder
Who scrapes up
Every single
I needed to back off…

Between Thanksgiving and New Year’s.

It’s been working,
Four pounds down.

Oh, the educational preparation programs…
People are paying so much for teacher training,
Yet getting so little in return.

Not really,
I wrote that to poke my “save the world daughter”
Who is mired in virtual student teaching.

The other day, she brought a challenge,
One hundred burpees a day for a month.
I accepted.

For my life, my hips and hammys have balked
At being bent, stretched, or pushed.
Burpees are the enemy.

Like an experienced teacher, which I am,
I gauged my ability and knew
Regular burpees were out of the question.

Jumping in at an appropriate level, scaling,
That would be the way.
As successes grew, I knew I’d be able to up the ante.

“Dad, these burpees are killing me.”
“Me, too.”
“How do you get them done so fast.”

I could have lied, played an over the top macho game,
“I modified them.”
“You’re cheating!”

“Would you say that to someone reading below grade level?”
“No, but that’s different.”
“Not for what I teach.”

There was a pause, I sensed her smarter than father brain working,
“You’re right, but it’s still cheating.”
I think she was just mad.

I explained the plan, to gradually get to full burpees,
That I am playing a long game, not a short one,
How so many times “big eyes” killed me in fitness.

This challenge is tough enough,
Tapping into every weakness that I have
I’ll get there, but I’ve got to get there without killing myself.

I hope scaling and learning at an appropriate developmental levels
Are still being taught. I’ve done my part to help.
Maybe that overpriced university can send some money back to her.

Picked up a jigsaw,
Factory blemished, I went cheap,
Charged the battery and went to town…

On my leg…

Which should not be a surprise
Given the genetic power tool skill set
Handed down by my grandfather and father.

Rest easy, Mom, this was different.

Instead of sharp toothed blade,
There was a nice soft ball,
No worries, just straight relaxation.

It’s a massage gun, now.

That cheap, factory blemished saw
Cut right through my I-T band,
Outside of my thigh if you were unsure.

I grimaced and smiled all at once.

Calves, quads, arms, and chest,
The pounding was all the same,
Good power tool relief.

So good…

One word, one word can change a dynamic,
One lousy word.

This humidity made our run feel like a shower,
Heavy legs made walking tempting.
We all talked, taking it easy through the soup
When I casually threw out a joke.

“We should sprint down the hill.”
Sprint was the lousy word.

Only one in the group called my bluff.
Of course it he was the fastest of our group
Maybe more than two minutes per mile faster than me,
Check that, more.

And off we went.

It was supposed to only be down the hill,
But the greyhound decided to push it around the pond.
Towards the end, my lungs were aching, my form lost,
His brow nearly dry.

I’ll never use that word, again.

I was cruising along,
Not a care in the world
No COVID worries,
No indecision by our leaders,

I decided to reach back to my past,
I think I was inspired by a quote I read,
“The past is never gone, “something like that, credit to Faulkner,
But the reach was only a few years ago when CrossFit was my thing
And given that I was not caring today, I decided to try a WOD.

The details of the workout don’t matter,
It kicked my apathetic butt,
So much so that I leashed my dog to a kettlebell,
Grabbed a beach chair, sat with him, and let sweat puddle under me.
Man, did it feel good.

There was no talking about schools,
No political ads,
Nothing to incite any violence.
It was wonderful, peaceful,
Just the way things ought to be.

A quick shower,
A little lunch, some laughter about misinterpreted song lyrics,
And some important historical knowledge dropped my way,
Credit goes to Kareem.
Then came the long, slow afternoon.

Twitter, local news, cable news,
A three-headed monster.
Email, Zoom, scam phones calls,
A brother, sister, or cousin of the three-headed monster.
Aggravation began to set in.

Thankfully, an awesome dinner broke the cycle,
Chicken and mashed potatoes soothe a soul.
Baseball’s on and I’m physically wasted the way I like after HIIT,
Back to not caring about s#%t, and
Waiting for the perfect time to go to bed.