Workout After Giving Up Booze

Sorry people who've been reading that I went a bit off the rails when talking about addiction.

I started this blog hoping to spread some wisdom in keeping a workout going after you're around 40 years old. But...you know something? I've boiled it down to a very straight forward thing...

...you just keep moving. I'm almost 40 years old, and I'm fucking tired. I get really worn down after 8 hours in a day and I get sleepy mid-day. Yeah, most people think it's a caffeine or a sugar crash, which very well could be. But I think it's just me sitting around immobile. The trick is to keep moving. Pace if you must. But keep generating motion...somehow.

The other thing is...no one should be giving advice on working out. No one. It's so specific to one's body, what people can do is to give you a vague idea of what they do. For instance, I can't tell you to do 15 reps with 10 second intervals for 5 minutes. What I can tell you is how many reps can you do before you exhaust your workout. Fine, do that. Then wait a few seconds, the do it again. The science is no longer a factor. I think we get way too wrapped up in the minutia of the physical activity, the simplest way is the best. Especially if it's specific to your body. I'm obvious different from any reader. So to tell people what I do is not going to work (completely) for you. And I'm no longer telling you what one or the other side argues for. For instance, the see-saw between building muscle and losing fat. Can you gain one without losing the other? Or vice versa. Only you can decide. I don't care as long as you keep moving.

I gave up drinking months ago. I'm tired. Listless. Apathetic. And find projects to pre-occupy my time. Mostly to keep my brain busy. Use to be the best time for me was the moment before I went to the gym so I can perv out women. Now...I'm fucking too tired for that. That's sad. SO...I need to just rest and recover. Just chill out until all the poison is gone.

Speaking of which, I had a co-worker recently been taken to the ER due to high blood pressure heart issues. I recall telling him to restrain from eating things with salt, oil, fried, or rice. He's Hawaiian, and incredibly stubborn. So everything I suggested went to "no, not gonna do that." Fine, shitbag. Now you done it. Now you're a walking, talking vegetable. And this idiot has a wife and kids. I keep thinking the people who have their family to support, if this is wise. If risking your existence (and ability to sustain a family) isn't at the forefront of your fears. If you can't sacrifice a shitty Hawaiian meal to live a little longer for your kids. As it is, this fucker is going to die before 60 and leave teenagers behind. That's fucking scary people.