Snug on no Guns

You see what I was going for there? The palindrome?

Yeah, okay, it was lame.

A few readers have asked how those five pounds that I said I wanted to lose are going. Others have asked about my bone density issues. Many were surprised that my bones would not be dense, since I am.

See what I did there? Self-effacing pun?

Hey, sorry. They can't all be gems.

Anyway, to bring you up to speed, as of this morning four of the five pounds are gone. It has taken draconian dieting, since according to a recent unpublished article in the New Jersey Journal of Medicine and Magic fat molecules becomes stickier once you pass age 50. Apparently, they know that your days are numbered, and that the number is very small (probably single digits, in my case) and they're staying close in hopes of cashing in when the will is read. Fat molecules are stupid, however, since I'm blowing the last of my liquidity on cream-filled sponge cakes.

Little Debby has a snack for me. That sweet little tramp.

Meanwhile, I'm beefing up my bones via thrice-daily (as opposed to Mayor Daley) ingestion of calcium tablets. In addition, I have all but forsaken the delicious nectar known as Diet Coke, since it is apparently full of some kind of nitric acid that has 10 molars -- not to mention incisors and canines -- with which it chews away at your skeleton until you collapse in a flaccid puddle.

I also started lifting weights again -- so that my arms are no longer vestigial appendages -- and running. Just for fun, and since I live so close to the beach, I've also begun swimming a bit more. If I start buying only sleeveless jerseys, hire a coach, know off the top of my head what my average watts were on last Thursday's ride, and begin fixating on my transitions ... well, just dump me down a hole with a few dozen cases of Diet Coke and Little Debby sponge cakes.

At least I can go out with some dignity.