OK, so maybe campy, outdated Shatnerisms are just not invigorating enough to push me past the whooping hack fits that were keeping me doubled over for a significant portion of my walk. Maybe I should have streamed Chariots of Fire, Rocky, or The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the Eighth Dimension. Lord knows how pumped I can get when I watch John Lithgow portray people of vastly limited sanity.
I'm itching all over. I'm about to ask the doc if this Metformin thing is causing it. Typically if there's a side effect to be had I'll be one of the lucky few to enjoy it. Nexium made me vomit for the first time in 14 years, not to mention the sheer intestine-vacating horror it produced, Mycardis made me pass out, sometimes while driving, and Bupropion gave me the confidence and resolve I needed to end my life most unceremoniously. Thank goodness I read the drug fact sheets they pass out at the pharmacy!
Things are better now though. It just seems to always take one failed prescription or two to find the thing that works for me.
But seriously, would someone please scratch my back???
I don't feel guilty for cutting the walk short. I walked. I went 4 miles, and did it in under 75 minutes. I gave myself a few minutes to cool-down too. I'm allowing myself a bare minimum of 3 miles OR one hour, depending on what I can handle on the day.
OK, I do feel a bit guilty, but that's just how I am. I'm still upset about things I did as a kid. I won't even go into my utter failure of a first marriage. Oops. I guess I did. What I'm trying my best to do now is not give myself any new reasons to feel guilty or ashamed of myself. It's actually not all that difficult if you weight the potential consequences of every word or action.
Yes, I do self-scrutinize quite a bit. Case in point, this blog stuff. But hey, it's cheaper than therapy, and available 24/7, 7 days a week. Also, I'd rather be remembered for the substance of my words than for the sound of my voice.
Day 33: 4+ miles in +/- 80 minutes,
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