Still feel like I got run over by a truck.

Perhaps this is another one of the joys of getting older. Going to the gym makes you feel like you got beat up in a bumfight or something. Or maybe a car wreck. Though the few times I’ve been in a car wreck I didn’t feel so bad.

Really, I have very little to add tonight. I still need to juggle my bank accounts and bleed away the money I have socked away for my never-arriving Toyota Prius I ordered back in February. Or maybe I should just say I suggested to the dealer that I have A BIG PILE OF MONEY set aside for a Prius and they should sell it to me for cheap. I suppose it doesn’t work that way. I should just buy a jpeg of it and use it as a screensaver while I drive my broken Civic back and forth and be happy with my lot in life. But lately I’ve been looking in the mirror and wondering why that old guy looking at me is looking so skinny and haggard. I think I need more sleep and a cheeseburger. Probably in that order.

I suppose it wasn’t smart to do as many burpees as I did this week. Tuesday I did them instead of pushups or squat thrusts and since I missed a couple of birthday burpee chances I did 92 (28 for Megan, 32 for Michelle, 32 for Galen, and my math is probably off). Wednesday there were 25 in the workout and I added a few to make it a around 47 because, well, I figured if I could do 92 on Tuesday I could do 47 on Wednesday. Thursday morning I felt like someone stabbed me between my shoulders. Good thing Friday is my day away from the gym.