Execrcise, motorcycles, and psychotherapy for myself.

Wow! I got up this morning NOT wanting to run, but stepped up and did it. I've been paying attention to my weight (which is pretty good, really), as I want to get down to 185. Rolling in at about 203 right now, but 185 would be a great walking weight, and fighting weight. I have also been looking up skin elasticity, as I lost so much weight, that I feel "saggy", and it's pretty gross feeling to me, honestly. Need to max my PT test, in the Fall, for a 17 to 21 year old. 62 push ups, 72 sit ups, and less than 13 minutes for 2 miles. That is cake, but I need to do it. I have been slacking pretty badly, mostly due to a 1.5 hour commute each way to work (everyday). I also had to focus on my two mile timed run for work, and that has effectively killed any of the distance that I had built up. Time to start over, and to pray for that transfer to the work site that is 15 minutes (in traffic) from my house. Dear God... por favor? I am now, probably more than ever, thinking about the Tough Mudder. I want to participate, and to finish with endurance and energy to spare. I want to prove all of the nay sayers wrong; I want to show them that age is just that... an age.

I MUST get back to my bike. I have had no time (and, honestly, not the money) to dive into the project. I have around 4K to go in order to make it the perfect ride. I have decided to make the roller complete; the frame, seat, forks, bars, wheels, tank... and then take the bike back to my garage and begin to gradually assemble it. The engine will be next, followed by the wiring. Once I assemble it completely, and have a perfectly running machine, then I'll strip it and go to paint. Viola! The plan emerges. :) My brain works through the issues a little better everyday; through the anger and hurt. I have questions, or more likely accusations. I want to say so many things... but they're jabs, hurtful comments...garbage. All of those things that I want to say (to shout) can only hurt. They would hurt us both, and I only want to succeed with her. I remind myself that I have what I wanted, and that I am happier than I have ever truly been. I adore her, and I want to share my future, past, and present with her, so I work through those moments, and I find that they fade with time... she wasn't mine, and her reasons were hers, as much as they (and her actions) bring me shame and anger. She came back and worked to talk to me, tried to make a dent, and that matters. I will marry her, and those hurts will continue to fade, with only the occasional and sublime moment of the most unhappy thoughts. Sound poetic? It isn't. Try waking up to that bullshit once or twice a week. It fucking pisses me off. Slainte!