Since I had to stop running because the arthritic ankle threw off the line of my whole leg and it felt as if gremlins were shoving pieces of shrapnel into my bones from my foot to my hip, I have let things, ahem, slide. So, now in an effort to regain lost ground, I have once again turned to that rabid freak, Tony Horton. Yes, I have restarted P90X. It was so effective the last time I used it, I'm almost sure I can get through it, despite yelling all manner of abusive and insulting remarks at Tony. Poor Tony. An hour a day a day I heap vitriol of the foulest kind on him; he who is only trying to help.

I refuse to do Pyleometrics this time, however. I don't care how much shame I feel because the one legged guy and his prosthesis are jumping all over the screen with nary a wince, that shit hurts me. And speaking of hurt. Why, oh why, does it hurt more the second time around? Yeesh. All I've done is Synergistics (core and cardio mostly), Cardio and that freaking Yoga, which is enough to make you get down on your knees and beg for Percocet. My abs, lats, and shoulders hurt so bad I can't cough or laugh without crying like a big girl. And don't get me started on sneezing. Soaking in a hot tub sounded like heaven. Unfortunately, I don't own one of those. I do have a big garden tub. And as soon as I got into it, someone rang the doorbell. Just as well I guess. If you think about it, the concept of bathtubs is kind of gross. Sitting in your own filth in stagnant water. Oooohh, relaxing.

Hot tubs, however, a genius idea. Just hope you don't run into these peeps.