Why I Work Out
And no. It’s not about big biceps.
I don’t have the use of my left hand for now, but will shortly. The Internet isn’t set up yet in my new house either. Lots of things need doing that might have to take a back seat.
Two days ago, while driving 65 mph westbound on Interstate 84 just outside Twin Falls Idaho, I had a (second) kidney stone attack.
Sudden movement plus momentum plus physics. You can see what happened, above.
Pretty spectacular loop-de-loop.
Right after I landed in the oncoming traffic lane, I shoved the glass out of the window, crawled out and started finding all my ID, which was scattered to the four winds.
Bruises, lacerations, a few stitches and staples. Tore up a finger. No shock, no tears, just whadda we gotta do here?
Sh*t happens. Deal with it.
I’m 67. I’m an athlete. A clumsy one, but I am limber and strong. When people bark at me that the only reason I do it is…
