We’ll always be here.

I’m having a good week. After a lazy month, I finally got into the gym on Tuesday and followed it up with a pretty intense yoga class tonight. I’m feeling drained and sore all over, just like I did every night back home, when I was super serial about my training. (That’s serial as in serious, or maybe serial as in serial killer, as in I was a psychotic with no life except my training)

Part One: Always worth it

“Okay. Heads I go back to the MMA school and take these Jiu Jitsu classes. Tails, I go to yoga again.”

I flip the quarter and it comes up heads. I purse my lips and flip it again. Again, heads.

That’s how I ended up getting my sorry ass back into the gym for the first time in two months. I know. It’s shameful.

Of course, it was worth it. It’s always worth it.You hear it so much when you train. It’s a cliché: “You never regret training, no matter how tired you were before you came in.”

When I got there, Flocka (I am totally winging it with the spelling), a dude I’d rolled with a month ago asked me:”Where you been, man?” He’d invited me back to practice on Saturdays, impressed with my skill. This meant a lot to me because after after all the time I’ve had off, I feel like a white belt all over again, flopping around helplessly on the mat. Like a walrus, or a paraplegic who’s fallen from his chair.

I told him I’m still getting my bearings in this new town. That I haven’t bought a car yet, so it takes an extra push to get motivated. I omitted the fact that I’ve been having serious doubts about my own commitment to training in the first place. I told him I want to get in more, especially on Saturdays when I’m always free.

“Well, we’ll always be here, man,” he replied. He doesn’t know how much this meant to me. Thanks, Flocka.

Part Two: Turkeys

My buddy has called my legs “turkeys.” This is a word he’s brought from his homeland, which is Florida, which (the word, that is, “turkeys”) is applied to large, meaty legs. I think it’s usually used to describe females with large, powerful thighs. I possess turkeys naturally. And a big bubble butt.

Yesterday we did a pretty serious leg workout for morning PT, with box jumps and burpees. Then I rode my bike to the gym, where we did an hour of double legs, including partner lifts. Today, I rode my bike to yoga, where the instructor put us into Utkatasana and some other leg-intensive poses. What this means is that my legs are only gonna get bigger. It’s going to be hilarious when I fail to add bulk up top to go along with it. I’m going to look like a T-Rex.

Part Three: Playing Ketchup

I’ve had a couple of good days of training, but my diet continues to be an issue.

This is the least appetizing picture of a hamburger I found in 30 seconds.

For lunch today, I succombed to a double quarter pounder with cheese from Burger King. That is to say: despite the fact that I had clean, paleo-friendly food waiting in my fridge, despite the fact that I looked at myself in the mirror this morning and saw very clearly where the 10 lbs I’ve gained has gone (hint: not lean tissue), despite the fact that I’ve been talking shit about switching to a paleo diet – despite all this, not only did I purchase this fast food item, I asked to “go large” due to french fries being easily the most seductive junk food for me, and not only did I purchase this fast food item, I sat down and put it all into my mouth, chewed, swallowed, and ate it. And immediately felt terrible.

Yes, I’ve backslid quite a bit. From my former glory. But I’ve been frustrated and bored, and I haven’t had any goals. Lately, I don’t even know why I get up in the morning. Without a goal, I’ve been rudderless. But what goal to pick? The most important thing is to have one.

“A goal is not always meant to be reached. It often serves simply as something to aim at.”

Thanks, Bruce. That means a lot.