Day One.It's easy to kid yourself about the shape you're in. Usually, at least.
Put my feet on the floor when I woke up. Got dressed. Walked two laps around the block before turning on the computer. My brainy little watch says it was sixteen minutes of walking, seven tenths of a mile.
Day Two:
Woke up at shortly after 0500. When it became obvious I wasn't going right back to sleep, I instead put my feet on the ground and started my day, rather than lying abed waiting for the alarm clock. Took three laps around the block to see how far that would be. Comes up to 1.02 miles, or near enough to a mile as makes no nevermind. 1.02 miles in twenty minutes and fifteen seconds.
Day Three:
Woke up with the alarm clock at 6AM. Got dressed. Three laps around the block. 1.05 miles in twenty minutes and ten seconds, according to the portable magic elf box.
Day Four:
Woke up about fifteen minutes before the alarm clock. Put my feet on the floor. Got dressed and headed out the door, put in my three laps.
Walked 1.04 miles in twenty minutes and fifty-five seconds.
But when you're laying on the cold, hard caliche in the glow of truck headlights, well into a panic attack as oxygen debt sets in and you're being pretzeled by someone who is going to pull your own gun from your holster and shoot you with it and there's not a damn thing you can do about it, there's no lying to yourself about what shape you're in.
I'm going to fix that. Baby steps, first, starting with more exercise and less beer.
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