Sanctified

Since 7/31 my entire life has revolved around exercising and icing the knee. Three fucking times a day. No breaks. 7 days a week.

I can't eat normally because I have to exercise so often that having a pound of mac n cheese in my belly is counter-intuitive. When I want a breakfast sandwich I eat a slice of toast. When I want a cheeseburger for lunch I eat two helpings of string cheese.

I'm tired all the time so I often fall asleep in between torture sessions. My time is not my own.

Had physical therapy this past Thursday at 12:00. Typically my sessions are at 3:00. I much prefer 3:00. That way I can exercise at home twice before the PT session, then after the session I feel completely justified treating myself to a beer and a burrito when I get home. It is fucking exhilirating.

But 12:00? I seized on the opportunity to take a little vacation. I exercised in the morning then dutifully attended PT. Then I rushed home and took the rest of the day off. Made myself a magnificent ham and cheese sandwich, grabbed some chips and a beer, and sat down to watch the 2 and 1/2 hour documentary Stevie Van Zandt: Disciple.

And did not exercise for the rest of the day. It was fucking magnificent.

I chilled, I thrilled, I got wild and smiled - and felt zero guilt. Not one bit. Not one second.

That, my friend, is plugging into The Now. In A Big Way.

My soul is still lit up. No need for lights at night - I just follow the trail illuminated by my sanctified soul.

Gonna get me more of that good stuff.