So there I was, screaming at this old lady I didn't know. You have to picture the scene. It's late afternoon and I'm driving to the gym, a medical fitness center affiliated with a local hospital. I'm about to turn into the
199. I'm just sayin'.
In other braggable news, my personal trainer insisted I brag to someone that I did 27 tricep pushups on my toes in tonight's session. Not all at once, though. In my first set, I did 12 on my toes and 13 on my knees. In my second set,
█████ and I have started seeing a personal trainer—and boy are my arms tired! (Bah-dum!) Of the many factors prodding us toward car ownership, this is the one that finally pushed us over the edge. It's an hour each way on the bus, with at least one transfer,
I'm telling this story on LiveJournal now because █████ keeps asking me if I've told this story on LiveJournal yet. Now the answer can be yes. This was about three weeks ago, I guess. It was nine-thirty or so at night, and █████ and I were walking home
My introductory karate lesson went fine last week. █████ and I had a private session with Sensei Lopez in a small room in the basement of the Tiger Schulmann studio in Manhattan. I think we both did pretty well, although after rehearsing our kicks I was tired enough that spots were
I'm taking my first karate lesson tomorrow. I'm a little anxious. I think the last time I had formal private extracurricular instruction in sport of any kind, I was about ten. The sport was gymnastics. The second week of class, I came off the uneven parallel
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