Still at rock bottom

I did a good job of managing what I ate last night.  Had very little fat and calories for dinner, only had one beer and a few potato chips during the football game.  When I got up this morning, I took a huge heater and went for a jog.  Came home sweating like a pig despite the 41 degree weather, grabbed a sip of water and took a shower.  I shaved and blew my nose to remove all excess weight.

Keeping in mind that I typically weigh more on Mondays than any other time of the week (as I've mentioned, weekends are bad for me), I was anxious to see how much I had dropped from yesterday's 187.2 showing (my weight changes are pretty extreme, me gaining or losing 3-4 pounds in a day is nothing out of the ordinary).  After the scale got through its calculations, it showed a staggering net loss of exactly 0.0 pounds.

I called the scale a few dirty names and kicked it to the side of the bathroom in disgust.  I weighed the same as yesterday, a rarity as I generally lose chunks of weight from Monday to Tuesday, Tuesday to Wednesday, etc, before packing it on again over the weekend.  I dropped a few more F-bombs as I went downstairs to grab a bite before heading into work.

While eating I read the latest car magazine and kept telling myself all the bullshit excuses that people tell fat bastards...it's probably just water weight, it's probably just muscle, blah, blah, blah.  I almost started to believe it.

I suffered the ultimate embarrassment while getting dressed.  Convinced the weight gain was nothing more than muscle or the like, I grabbed a pair of jeans that I normally wear on Tuesdays (Hayden and I go see Father Bernie at church on Tuesday nights for a very laid back service.  People dress in shorts, sweats, whatever, so jeans at church isn't as bad as it sounds.).  The damned things felt tight the second I 'slid' the on.  And by 'slid,' I mean I tugged the shit out of them.  I finally got them on, and while there was no need for a belt, there really wasn't a reason for the button either.  It just wasn't going to happen.  Talk about the indignity of getting kicked when you're down.  I'm starting to think I've got a tumor in my stomach.  A very large tumor.

I've decided I'm going back to exercising twice a day like I used to.  Work up a nice sweat first thing in the morning, and then another when I get home from work.  The bad foot is just going to have to man up and deal with it.  I'm sick of being the butt of my own jokes.  I don't like fat people, so now I'm forced to not like my favorite person...another humility.

As I mentioned, I did go for another jog this morning.  Despite being a few degrees warmer (and dryer) than yesterday, I froze my cherries off.  I wore gloves but my hands were cold the whole trip.  Taking the exact same route as yesterday, I somehow managed to do it in 0.06 miles less than yesterday.  Apparently, I'm getting bigger but the neighborhood is getting smaller.

I did use a different phone app to track my jog, but it's from the same place as the one I used yesterday.  I believe the route to be 2.00 miles, meaning yesterday was off 9% and today was off 6%.  Kind of begs the question, how much is it going to be off tomorrow and in which direction?

My bum foot remains sore-ish after each run, but if I give it some decent rest at night, it seems to be handling it.  We'll see how well it handles the uptick in activity.  I think the new shock absorber socks will shine.  Speaking of which, here's a picture:

Pretty sweet, huh?  Two pairs have the gray shock absorbers and one pair has a red shock absorber (can't wait to see how bitchin' the red ones are).  It was a pretty stellar purchase if you ask me.  They're very comfy because they stretch a little, and while they're fairly thin, they have the shock absorber part on the bottom.  Don't be jealous.