PUMPING IRONY: Weekend Workout

The holiday weekend lacked fireworks, though our neighbor outfitted his front yard with a red, white and blue light show featuring the music of John Phillip Sousa, Bruce Springsteen and Ray Charles (the latter singing his own stirring rendition of “America the Beautiful”), which debuted the evening of July 3 with much fanfare and, perhaps owing to a visit or two from less patriotic neighbors, did not favor us with an Independence Day encore.

I declared my independence from the gym these past three days…

which is not to say I hung out in a hammock (wish I had one) sucking on a succession of ice cold Budweisers (I prefer Grain Belt). Nope. There were errands to run, and when there are errands to run, My Lovely Wife and I run them on our bicycles. That meant about 10 miles in the St. Paul hill country (actually 5 miles up, 5 miles down) on Friday, a short ride (2 miles) to downtown Nokomis on Saturday (after a glorious rain shower) and another 8 miles or so to a vacationing friend’s house to feed her cats this afternoon.

Between all the cycling (and sore hamstrings, glutes, etc.), there was gardening, gardening and a bit more gardening. Lots of bending, squatting and other moves that remind me of my age and the relative appeal of yoga. Plus, I dragged out the extension ladder and cleaned out the gutters without succumbing to heat stroke and toppling to a tragic death. All in all, a pretty active three days, even though I never got around to strapping on my heart-rate monitor.

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