The Food of Life

I need to photograph my weight clinking workout sheet.

I've been hitting the gym for about six weeks.  After a couple of lost pounds, my weight seems to be staying the same.  I think some of my fat rolls have diminished, so I'm hoping that the muscles that are appearing on my arms account for the weight.  The rowing machine continues to be fun, and the digital readout suggests that my normal pull rate has gone up from about 550 cal/hour to about 650 cal/hour.

The only down-side to the increase in exercise is that I'm having weird food cravings.  Last week, I wandered through the store silently asking the food, ala Starhawk, "Is this the Food of Life?"  I think the Food of Life had salt and fat.  Or maybe protein, although it wasn't the bacon calling me.  I settled on piccante Gorgonzola, which was a spicy mistake; I really wanted dolce Gorgonzola.  Except, I think that was wrong, as well.  Eating is approaching a C.S. Lewis "Discarded Image" endeavor because after the feast I don't feel satisfied.

Oh well, I guess I'll stick with the celery and peanut butter.

Abs of Tin

Around July 15th, I joined a gym.

It was supposed to be a surprise for Mark, but he discovered my day-glow gym shirt and socks.

I've been fairly good about going four out of five days a week ever since.  I have a little routine with a rowing machine and various gym machines, like the pec fly machine.  I actually cut back a day or two here or there when I learned that when you clink weights you're supposed to give your body a recovery day.

In any case, moving exercise machines around and cutting back a little bit on cheap chocolate and Pepsi seems to be having the sorts of effects that I want.  And one more... The last few days, I seem to be hungry all the time.  I'm blaming the rowing machine and burning through 120 calories in 12 minutes  for this one.

I think feeling hungry is natural... and I'm wondering if there's something, like bananas or glasses of water, that I can ingest instead of, say a whole chicken or--actually, I kind of don't want a Pepsi, which seems weird.

Anyway, I'm hopeful that this is a sign that I've kicked my metabolism up a notch, and that it will now obediently turn to consuming the fat stores that snuck around from my back and joined over my abdomen.  Once those melt away, I look forward to Abs of Tin. 

New Moon, New Projects

It's the new moon.  I like to imagine that I'm going to get things done, or at least started, during the time of new beginnings promiced by the new moon.  To that end, I re-started my disco dancing excersise routine.  The reward for that is that I'm sore today, especially in my right calf; one does not simply jump into extended cha-cha, Ricky Martin songs or no.

I've also put some more entries into my writing journal.  If I can keep that up, that would be good.  Keeping up a system of accountability is going to be key during the next three months.

The very rough draft in progress at the moment is very rough:  the pieces from the week's twenty- and fourty-minute sessions are pretty disconnected.  Yesterday's longer writing session (thank you Mark, for clearning the house) was more about outlining and fitting vinettes together.  

And then there's the inventory of stories which need to be sent out.  Time for various mantras about writers, submissions, and rejection slips.