Gaye

Motown seeps into my sleep at 4:30 AM. "I know about your plans to make me blue." You gotta love Marvin Gaye. Why did that man start that crazy talk with his dad? That's a shame.

I'll tell you about a shame. I turned off the alarm clock and went sweet back to sleep. Damnit. I woke up around 7:30, said things that I wouldn't want my mother to hear, and jumped out of bed. Crap. This throws off my eating schedule, which, I think, is the most important aspect of losing fat.

I head to the bathroom, brush my teeth, wash my face, throw on the gear and head to the gym.

The weight feels lighter. Nice. Same deal, though. The time never increases; just the weight and number of reps. Today: Dumbell bench presses, incline dumbell flyes, Hammer Strength presses, and pec deck flyes. I did six sets of 10 for each exercise, and knocked them out in 25 minutes. I also increased my weights. I felt good. Good feelings are fleeting, aren't they?

Pounding along I wonder who conjured up the idea of a treadmill. Seriously, what's the inspiration for stationary running? Crap. The energy I had the last two days is nowhere to be found. Bullshit. I struggle through my usual 30 minute run (3.29), and then move to the Cybex Arctrainer for the remaining 15 minutes. Mmmmmmm. A slice of Hell on Earth. Gotta love it. What--the fuck--ever. Well, let's eat.

Meal 1: Six ounces chicken breast. Two slices whole wheat bread. Half a cup of spinach.

Meal 2: Four ounces flank steak. Half a cup of spinach.

Meal 3: One cup peanuts.

Meal 4: Halibut steak and one cup spinach.

Well, just a couple of observations. First, I'm all spinached out. Second, getting that first meal in at 11 AM is not going to help. Damn. Gotta do better tomorrow.