The road to recovery

It’s amazing the difference a day makes! The last two nights I’ve slept like a baby (with a bad back) and have actually been having more problems with my oozing scab-of-a-knee sticking to the sheets than anything else. It’s a refreshing change.

I’ve been taking Doc’s crack pills as directed now for the third day in a row. I’d like to think they’re responsible for my improved condition and visions of Margaret Thatcher naked, but I fear I have other things to blame and issues to confront.

I managed to slip in an emergency appointment with my chiropractor yesterday who balled me up like a high school wrestler and played the bone drums on me. He also checked my neck’s alignment from the incident and snapped a few vertebrae here and there to put things right.

All in all it was a good day. The detachment went over our presentations at 1800 for tomorrow’s visit from the CO, and I got home about 2000. I conducted a few experimental exercises following my return in the form of tossing and turning on the couch and holding myself up in a modified pushup position for a few minutes to test strength. I was pleased with the results despite a few twitches and twinges in my back.

Tomorrow is a new day. Although the weather has been shitty the last couple of days, I’m quickly approaching a condition worthy of cycling on a regular basis. By next week I hope to be back in the gym gettin’ huge and well on my way to Mr. Olympia. I’d like to thank Dad for the genetics, my high school gym teacher for the solid weight lifting foundation, the Marine Corps for supporting me, and my pocket book for taking the beating with all the supplements I’ve been sucking down.

Prepare for a small lapse in postings while we knuckle down for our command visit over the next three days. If there’s anything worthwhile writing about, you can bet your sweet bippy you’ll find it here.

Out.