Training Session #15- June 17 (No Running)


7:05 am to 7:55 am



Training Maxim:

No hurry. No pause.

Training Performed:

Gym training

  • Bike- 4 miles of hill intervals
  • Leg extensions 2 reps x 10 ea.- 40 lbs
  • Leg curls 2 reps x 10 ea.-40 lbs
  • Leg press 2 reps x 10 ea.- 100 lbs
  • Glute press 2 reps x 10 ex. leg- 50 lbs
  • Core- 50 crunches, 50 sit-ups, planks 4x 45 seconds ea.


When I walked into the gym, the desk attendant informed me that I was the second person to visit the gym today. Win the morning, win the day.


Today is Father’s Day. During training I thought about my father, who I  don’t think ever went to the gym. But he didn’t have to. In the heat of my teenage summers I worked with him. And of course, he worked circles around me.  He owned his own business which would remove pallets from a company’s property. It was hard, dirty work. But work that needed to be done. No matter the dirt, the heat, the weight–I never heard my father complain. I never saw my father cut a corner. He just worked until the job was complete. Period.

I thought about my children today. How this training is partly for them. I want to play with them again. Run with them again. Be strong for them again.

Quote I’m Thinking about Today:

“One father is worth more than a hundred schoolmasters.”~ George Herbert

Checkout Chapter 2 of my serial story “The Man with the Hole in His Brain”

“He’s a writer again. His words walk a tightrope of transparency and vulnerability while attempting to maintain a masculine balance. He writes to entertain. He writes to discover truth. He writes to feel strong. He writes to fill the hole in his brain with imagination instead of hopelessness and resentment. He writes secrets he can’t tell his wife. He writes to make his father proud. He writes in case he dies young. He writes so his voice may one day comfort his children when they’re older and far from home. He writes for Ms. Baker/ Mrs. Cleary. For Fire Hydrant. For himself. Because twenty four years ago he gave up on a dream. He let an opinion dry his pen, quiet his voice. When he was a boy he let the critic win.”