a thorough workout

Getting dressed this morning, I noticed that the sleeves of my t-shirt are tight: the first external sign of my growing muscles. (I still can't see a difference, but I know I'm stronger.)

Today's workout involved slightly more cardio than usual, and a good mix of other stuff. Beforehand, I'd been worried because my left wrist was sore, but everything worked out fairly well. ( workout details )

Between weights, crunches, stretches, and cardio, that was about an hour and a half. So I showered and changed, and went off in search of food. Had a decidedly inferior bowl of Cantonese noodle soup--putting cabbage in vegetable dumplings is a matter of taste, I suppose, but the duck was inferior and there was something not quite right about the noodles. I found myself staring at my bowl, thinking "you don't have to eat it", so I drank the broth, ate most of the duck, made a note not to go back (a place called something like Mi Noodle Shop, Ninth Avenue in the low 50s), paid, and left.

At Amy's Bread, I got rosemary bread to go with the leg of lamb from last night; sourdough chocolate twists for tomorrow's breakfast; and a cinnamon challah roll to eat on the subway home. Then I deposited my Unemployment check and took the A train home.

a thorough workout

Getting dressed this morning, I noticed that the sleeves of my t-shirt are tight: the first external sign of my growing muscles. (I still can't see a difference, but I know I'm stronger.)

Today's workout involved slightly more cardio than usual, and a good mix of other stuff. Beforehand, I'd been worried because my left wrist was sore, but everything worked out fairly well. ( workout details )

Between weights, crunches, stretches, and cardio, that was about an hour and a half. So I showered and changed, and went off in search of food. Had a decidedly inferior bowl of Cantonese noodle soup--putting cabbage in vegetable dumplings is a matter of taste, I suppose, but the duck was inferior and there was something not quite right about the noodles. I found myself staring at my bowl, thinking "you don't have to eat it", so I drank the broth, ate most of the duck, made a note not to go back (a place called something like Mi Noodle Shop, Ninth Avenue in the low 50s), paid, and left.

At Amy's Bread, I got rosemary bread to go with the leg of lamb from last night; sourdough chocolate twists for tomorrow's breakfast; and a cinnamon challah roll to eat on the subway home. Then I deposited my Unemployment check and took the A train home.