Shhh. Listen. You can actually hear me getting fatter.


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I haven't gotten in a legitimate workout in over two weeks.


I can literally feel the bacon and ice cream knitting themselves into some sort of gelatinous, chemical/biological equivalent of a packing pillow. (On the plus side, my internal organs should be safe from any blunt-force trauma.)


With each passing day my muscles continue to atrophy like a snowbank in the springtime.


I can hear the gods of triathlon laughing – mocking me. I can taste the sand that they continue to kick in my face.


It's disgusting. No more.


This two-week lingering cold? I'm done with it. I've decided it's all in my head now. I'm going to start powering through it.


This monstrous two-week (and counting) freelance editing project? The hammer will fall. I'm pushing hard, pushing through and finishing this thing so I can get back to regular life (and so I can get paid in time for our spring break trip to Phoenix!).


This two-week (and a whole lot more counting…) new-dog experience? Um… That one's going to be a bit more problematic. This dog needs exercise. Lots of exercise. So I've been taking her on two walks a day – during my two most likely workout times each day – just to keep her from going crazy and becoming destructive. In a few months I can just turn those walks into runs. (I know she can hang.) But I'm not into icy runs. I've done too much slipping and sliding over the years. Sick of it. I don't do it anymore.


So maybe it's going to take some super-extra-early mornings in order to get Bijou (and Shouko!) some exercise and then get myself on the bike or over to the pool.


One way or another, something's gotta change. Race season is coming and I've got some goals for this year. (At this point, one of them is just fitting into my gear.)