I did a little exercise when I got home. Esquire, the one with Jessica Simpson shaving on the cover, ran a 7-day tune-up schedule for men, including a series of exercises. They are deceptively simple. I find myself laughing at my exhaustion after 25 reps of a seemingly easy series. I did not get to paint, but I did stop by the downtown Asheville store for a tube of Nickel Oxide Brown, I think they called it. It's a yellow-brown.
Dad called after his chemo. His red blood cell count is down, and his heart is working too hard. They're giving him injections to help this. He's growing black hair again, but his legs are getting weak. When he's tired, it's hard to talk with him; I couldn't get in any questions to ask specifics as he was practically babbling from the drugs. I'll try to get more out of him this weekend.
The knee is settling down more each day, and I intend to run when I get home. I watched a recent Nova experiment where 12 sedentary people trained for the Boston Marathon. One had to pull out because of stress fractures, but the rest finished the race, averaging a little over four hours. There's a local race here at the end of May, and I'd like to take a crack at it, but I need to get back to 3 5ks a week beforehand.
Picture of the Day
Threepio is helpless against the forceball.