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Saturdays are meant for excess, an extended recess.

No.  I do not mean excess food, although at times that does apply.  Nor do I mean alcohol.  Should you ever spend a Saturday with me, do not be tempted to attempt getting me to over indulge.  You will be sorry.  It is also very difficult to get me to do so.  Ask a multitude of Hungarians who in the first few weeks of May thought they could accomplish that.  They were not successful.

I woke up yesterday morning with a sharp pain in my lower left back.  That can only mean one thing — I overdid it on Saturday.  Generally, I can count on having a sore back at some point in May or June.  Once the weather gets warm, I want to do as much outside as possible which includes activities that put a demand on my core.  This pitiful individual has avoided core exercise, for the most part, the majority of my life.  There have been exceptions.  Exercise that involves high aerobic content and constant movement is what I enjoy, so I avoid the boring crunches and burpees and planks and sit ups.  Bleah.  So I suffer when my core gets those early summer/late spring tests.

Every time I wake up with that sore back, I swear I am going to start those core workouts.

To my defense, Saturday was BCD (Butt Crack of Dawn) day — out the door for a bike ride around 5:45 AM.  By 10, I had around 60 miles logged, fast miles with friends who keep me honest.  With base miles in, I am able to sustain 22-23 mph or faster for a long time, so the bike workout was pretty intense.  When riding with friends, pride takes over and everyone rides fast once the warm ups are done lest you be the weakling who falls behind.  One group I ride with awards the weakling of the day (or the no show) with a delivery of pansies at their office the following Monday!

Once the ride was done, I took a few minutes at home to cool down with a cup of coffee and FB trash talking (thanks, Mattie, for being a Saturday morning weenie — I felt so superior, you dog fart sniffing pillow hugger).  Then it was a quick change to lawn mowing clothes, although I have been known to mow the lawn in my bike spandex, and a trip to our friend’s house to mow their lawn. Yes, I mow lawns for free.  I am sick that way.  Just that way.  No other ways.  And I used my own lawn mower and gas (gasoline, although I could probably fuel a lawn mower that runs on methane).  Not to stop there, I mowed my own lawn when I got home.

3 PM.  I had an excuse to potato it the rest of the day.  So I did.  Got up to go out to dinner with Mir and shop for clothes.  Another benefit of outdoor activity is weight loss.  A friend saw me at church yesterday and quipped “Jeez, you sure have dropped some weight!”.  I did not know whether to say thanks or smack him.  Was I that much of a porker over the winter?  Oink.

So I woke up with a sore lower back.  Whined a bit whenever I sat down or tried to get back up.  But I did manage to work on a few bicycles, do some weeding, throw the ball for Nick da Sheltie.  There is a note regarding Nick — when he is through with playing fetch, he just takes the tennis ball to the back door instead of bringing it back to me.  That usually takes a long time.  Yesterday, I am not sure I even threw the ball ten times for him.  He sauntered slowly to the back door with tennis ball in mouth and waited for me to let him in.  Looks like even my dog needs a bit of charging up.

Or maybe Saturday night was Nick’s night of excess.  Only he knows.

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