Ladies and Gentlemen… It’s raining outside and it’s friggin cold which can mean only one thing. Well actually more than one thing, but in this case, summer is OVER and fall is upon us. That’s right, leaves changing color, the bike put away and the clock finding me an extra hour to sleep.

First things, well, first. Yes I have been gone a long time. No I haven’t been exercising my ass off on a tropical island with the Swedish Bikini Team (although I would have also accepted the Hawaiian Tropic Bikini Team) and No, I haven’t been doing ‘well’. The month of September was one of the gloomiest ones that I can remember. Not weather wise, but in general motivation and a desire to do anything. I can’t explain it, but it’s kind of like when this whole weight loss project started, no one can tell you ‘You are a Fat (please note that it is FAT not PHAT) Bastard Bernie’ (although, for God sake, someone please do next time)… it is something you have to come to terms with yourself and change. Well all the steam that I had gathered had disappeared with the injury that always occurs just as I am about to turn the corner. I will be honest it took the wind out of my sails.

So… This leads me to October (notable for my MRI which is finally almost here and the fact that for the first time in a decade I will not be drinking myself stupid at Oktoberfest… Just saying that if I stumble upon Concordia tickets though, I will have to go) and the desire to finish this project. I am sick and tired of being big. Pissed, irritated and generally angry and I am not stopping this time. If I blow a knee, I will use it till they replace it with some sort of bionic leg.

In keeping with this new theme, I ventured to Brantford to see some of my favourite people on Saturday morning and leg-be-damned the BFL had its first Bernie sighting. It was not a good sighting. I can’t think of any football game I have EVER played where I had as many dropped passes (by me) or underthrown balls (by me) in a season, nevermind a single game. Awful. There is a silver lining to this doom and gloom cloud I have painted though, even after a month, my body still remembers what running is. Not just running, but Bernie-flat-out running for an entire game. OK, there was the one play where the 15 year old ran past me, but it was late in the second half and I was getting tired.

Sunday was a different story. OMG (Oh My Gawd for those who don’t work with the short forms), I could barely move. My hips and back decided that I needed reminding that A) I need to stretch more and B) Chasing a 15 yr old around a football field is best left to other 15 yr olds.

It’s still good to be back.


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