This has been a pretty devastating week for me in the world of fitness. On Sunday, I made two errors on routine fly balls in the 10th inning of a baseball game that, when put politely, "directly contributed" to my team's loss. I followed that up on Monday by freeing what experts tell me is some form of ancient exercise equipment called a "weight bench" from beneath the vines, cobwebs and wildlife in my backyard. Archaeologists estimate that the equipment was last used at some point during the Kennedy administration. Then on Tuesday, when running up the stairs to catch a BART train, I tripped and found myself laying face down in the bricks as I heard my train pull away. I managed to not embarrass myself much yesterday, but made up for it today by bowling a combined 300 in 6 games and then losing to a 12-year-old in 1-on-1 basketball.
On a "completely unrelated" note, I've decided to recommit myself to a standard of general physical fitness. I am going to start lifting weights regularly again, ride my bike more, find more time for exercise and just keeping myself in the kind of shape that I can be happy with.
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