Oh no! Cliché alert! I'm about to go on one of those Epic Fitness Journeys that people love to post about on Facebook. Yes, there will be douche-y photos of me shirtless in my bathroom, but no, I will not make you look at them. I will also try to avoid discussing my carb intake. I'm not terribly good at this thing, the fitness thing. I've always had a pretty catch-as-catch-can approach to fitness. I love it, but I love it the way that somebody who plays soccer on the weekend and roots for Arsenal loves competitive team sports: haphazardly. And that isn't likely to change, really, at least not in a wholesale way. But I am posting here to commit myself to a somewhat more rigorous plan. I happen to have the next few months fairly open with plenty of time to commit to fitness, and in addition I have this upcoming little thing called a ride across the country. Just between you and me, it isn't really necessary to be in amazing shape to complete that ride, but it does provide a convenient excuse, doesn't it? When I was a kid, I thought I was fat, and ever since then, I've always been just short of committing to getting in really good shape; and with my 39th birthday coming up, I think it's finally time. The stars are aligned, so to speak.
So I'm looking forward to trading some cheeseburgers for smoothies, taking it easy on the alcohol, drinking plenty of water, and getting to the gym every day. And we'll see if 45-60 days of that, followed by two months of chasing my way across the heartland, can make a dent in the flab.