The things a fat man will do...

After speaking to my apartment manager yesterday, I wasn't going to let that get me down. I liked the idea of working weights in the morning and doing cardio at night. I went to the gym in Irvine after work for an hour and headed home, wondering what I would do.

The problem with all of this exercise is that it really cuts into my drinking and sleeping time. I mean, an hour at night and a half hour in the morning, when do you find the time for laziness??? But, then, I'd weighed myself and I was approaching 225 - again! - and thought this would be a good time to kick it up a notch (apologies to Emeril - the freak). I didn't have to work out that much all the time, just for a few more weeks, just to see what 220 felt like and if I wanted to keep going to 210, which is still my goal despite all the backsliding.

The solution was simple. There's a gym in Orange, not too far from me. I could wake up a little earlier and drive down there. The thought wasn't pleasant - but I've done sleepwalking and nightmaring, so it wasn't too bad, comparatively.

I woke up this morning at 5:40am... the alarm, which I'd set to a Mexican station to get me up and turning it off quicker, had been going off since 5:30. I'd had a great dream and wanted to write it in my dream log but my right arm was asleep... I wouldn't be writing anything anytime soon. So, I did one of those morning face wipes/rubs and sat up.

But my lip hurt. I'd rubbed the scab over the remnants of my cold sore/fever blister - rubbed it right off. I put my hand to my lip and came away with blood. Oh, that's a great way to start the morning!

No turning back now, though. I crawled over to my sweats, pulled them on, worked my way into my shoes, grabbed my keys, and was off. Soon, I was driving in the dark, the sun barely poking its first rays over distant hills, and heading up roads that were very familiar to me.

You see, the gym in Orange is only a few blocks away from Rosa's house, formerly "Ken & Rosa's Place". I've avoided this gym for that very reason. Rosa and I used to go to this gym together. We'd walk Chloe (our spaniel) to the store next door and the vet across the street. It was from the pay phone near by that I'd called Cindy and told her that Rosa was okay with getting a divorce. She never fought it, never would. I wouldn't call Cindy from within our home but was so shocked by Rosa's acceptance of the divorce that I had to rush out and talk to Cindy, the only person I felt would comfort me at that time.

After Rosa and I had split up, and after Cindy and I had broken up (we'd only dated a few weeks, after all), I drove those same streets in the darkness, paying Rosa nocturnal visits. So many times in the summer of 2000, I went to her house and slept with her, unintentionally hurting us both.

And so, I drove up to the gym with all of these thoughts pounding in my head. It's so true that we can never go home. Sometimes we just can't find out way. Other times, it is utterly demolished before our eyes.

I spent my half hour at the gym and left in the burgeoning daylight. As always, there was a pull, though a very slight pull, the gravity of what once was "Ken & Rosa's Place" tearing at my heart... but only lightly.

There's really no ending to this entry. I suppose it will go on for a few days or weeks. Eventually, though, I have a date with a martini.