The tally for the recycling bin on April 17th is two one gallon nonfat milk containers, two bottled water containers, 10 diet Coke cans, four wine coolers, a supplement/vitamin bottle, a gallon container of Simple Green household cleaner, and a... um...medical device used to intraveinously self-medicate.
The Phase IV treatment was a stunning success. Via the combination of 40 weight lifting sessions in 60 days, extra (ion-echanged, micro-filtered) whey protein, and other supplementation, I manage to gain 10-12 pounds of muscle, water, and and some fat. Every body part is visibly bigger and fuller.
But a house of cards is very fragile indeed. The Phase V treatment shows me giving back a fair amount of those 10-12 pounds in just the first 7 days. There is also a night of very little sleep. I'm left confused as to whether the loss of sleep was due to Phase V or due to thinking that I might be in love. When I visit the doctor and he sees what has happened, he says, "I'm pissed off that you regressed so much."
I'm a bit taken aback by this comment. I realize that he meant that he's pissed off by how I responded to Phase V as opposed to my adherence to the protocol, but it didn't come out that way. And I respond with, "Dr. L, there's no reason to be pissed off. Life is too short to be pissed off. You can be disappointed like I am, but don't be pissed off." Afterwards I can see a change in his tone and things are okay again.
On Friday morning, missing sleep and weary from feelings of confusion, I start in to TRW on the new motorcycle. There is an open road, so I decide I need to wind the bike up just a bit. I crack the throttle almost-WFO - my eyeballs are pinned to the back of their sockets and I'm hanging on for dear life. Before I know it the speedometer is moving towards 140 mph and the bike shows no signs of running out of breath. I ease off the throttle and slow down to typical speeds when I come upon traffic. I have the biggest smile on my face, but I can't help but say out loud, "Oh my. What hath God wrought?"
Getting back to the "Am I in love?" query, I have spent at least two hours each of the last three nights talking with Person N. Well, that designation has already been used, so let's go with Person G (for geographically undesirable). We have covered a lot of subjects and Person G has actually read almost the entire online diary. I spend a fair amount of time answering questions about HVAC, activities, people, and ChiChi(s).
Saturday I crank out a 40 mile bicycle ride and run a number of errands. By Saturday afternoon I am tired and every single body part is stiff and sore. I feel good! I call Brandon and he agrees to pick me up as we head for a club in West Hollywood. We'll meet Joe and others there.
There's a reasonable crowd at the club and a good atmosphere. Person M, well, that has been used, so Person M_K, a new arrival on the diary, and I take up a conversation that turns into more of a scene than anything else. There's a commotion surounding us and, occasionally, the security guard walks by and keeps an eye on us. Brandon and Joe are over at their table whispering and pointing at us, but we're having fun. Brandon and I eventually leave at 1:40am with Harris, a friend of Joe's from Atlanta, with us. (Harris wanted to stay later than when Joe wanted to leave.) I'm laying down for sleep at 2:40am on Sunday.
I'm up at 7:30am to lift weights, watch motorcycle races, do some some shopping, go for a bicycle ride, and I start to lose consciousness. I lay down for a nap at 3:18pm and am woken by Person M_K's telephone call at 4:20pm. We have a good conversation and agree to meet for dinner sometime during the week.
While walking Nopey on Sunday night I feel a rain drop on my left shoulder. Funny - there was no prediction of rain and there are no clouds in the sky. I look down at my shoulder and see a glob of bird doody on my shoulder. Well, at least buffaloes don't fly.