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Fitness level

September 9, 2008

Little known fact: I am not an Olympian.
Better known fact: I know a few Olympians.
Fact obvious to anyone who meets me: I have little upper body strength.

So what am I doing to change this?

Firstly, I have just started the 100 Pushups! routine. If you haven’t heard of it, peruse the website. Or just read what I’m writing here. Basically, the plan says that you should be able to do 100 consecutive push-ups within six weeks. I’m on week two. After an initial test of like, three push-ups, I can now do 22 (with periodic breaks). I might have been able to do more tonight, but my sister called in the middle and I was allright with my six push-up max out. Plus, on a sprained ankle, I shouldn’t be putting too much pressure on anything right now.

What I’ve discovered? Push-ups HURT. Push-ups HURT YOUR ABS. Who knew? I was expecting some serious (srs) arm pain here, and instead, it’s my tum that has been sore since last week, and which was on fire through every single of the 22 push-ups I did tonight.

Well-known fact by the entire world: I am a huge baseball fan. Tonight, Gary Sheffield hit the 250,000th homerun in baseball history. And he did it in style — grand slam style. But I am writing right now, because for no reason whatsoever, I love Ian Snell. Well, I have reasons now, but earlier this year, I loved Ian Snell for no reason. And even now, while I watch him strike out all of the Astros like Bugs Bunny in that one Looney Tunes sketch (though the Stros are still winning, woo!), I love him and —

Weirdly sad thing ever: September 8, 1993 – the Astros’ Darryl Kile throws a no-hitter. Ken Caminiti and Andujar Cedeno hit homeruns. Sad because? They’re all dead. And all former Astros who I loved a lot. A lot a lot a lot.

And now I feel like that this day in history (which they showed on FSN Houston) was a jinx, because Lance Berkman just got beaned in the head. Pittsburgh Pirate dude hits the ball. JR Towles, the Astros catcher, launches it to first. Lance Berkman goes to catch it, and instead it bounces off of his unprotected forehead. He’s laughing about it now, but man is that going to be a nasty welt. Lance and I can be injured together. Fortunately, mine is my ankle and not my forehead. And fortunately, his is his forehead and not his ankle.

— Everything that happened distracted me from my Ian Snell story. Another day, another day.

Viva la vie boheme!

Viva la vie boheme!

Which reminds me, RENT ended it’s Broadway run yesterday. This saddens me in many different ways. Last summer, when Anthony Rapp and Adam Pascal rejoined the cast for a few months, I went and saw it five times. I practically held my breath everytime Adam sang “One Song Glory.”

I was a bit of a Renthead, sure, but it was pure magic with them in it. And I’ll miss randomly going to see it through the $20 lottery. And knowing all of the dance moves, though probably not being able to execute them myself.

No day but today, friends.

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