Offering up the rationale that she had to go out of town, my trainer canceled our appointment.
I knew the “real” reason: She had grown tired of me, leaving to find another greybeard to tutor; tossing me to the curb like yesterday’s recyclables. As revenge, I would forgo my exercise regiment; opting instead to sleep late, eat immense amounts of sugary snacks, gain lots of weight, and make her feel guilty. Don’t mess with the male ego; it is a bewildering and convoluted place.
However, fate interceded and my eyes popped open at 3:30 AM, leaving me restless and incapable of returning to the embracing arms of Hypnos. Since I could not sleep, the question became, “what do I do at this hour?”
I could exercise.
The notion of huffing, puffing, bending, and squatting in the cold morning dampness – with no trainer guiding over and coercing me – struck me as being as appealing as bathing in ice water. Yet, in this pre-dawn mentally fuzzy state, activity sounded more attractive than staring at dark bedroom walls; so I ventured out doors, thinking, “I can walk to the bakery and get a donut.” Strapping on walking shoes, iPod, and fleece vest, I set forth into the inhospitable chilly climes of dawn.