Yesterday was day two hundred of 2020.

Why is that important? Because of my New Year’s Resolution, which is still going strong. Yesterday, I smashed out two hundred push-ups.

The transformation of my upper body still amazes me. Almost daily. And the ladies? They love the way I feel. My chest. My arms. My veins. As a former fat kid, I can’t help but become a bit narcissistic.

When people ask what I’m doing, I tell them. This almost always leads to the question: All at once?

Well, yes and no. I have to manage them in sets. Currently, I can do a single set of ninety on a good day. Most days, my first set is fifty. Really, it just depends on how good I feel when I do them. My goal is to get them done in as few sets as possible, as quickly as possible.

So, on an off day it may take me a half hour with rests. On a good day, about seven minutes.

What about rest days? Well, I haven’t really taken these into account—although I should. I haven’t penalized myself for the five days I missed, because of travel, or whatever... so those can be rest days.

When I go too long without a rest day, my upper body is just sore. All. Day.

I suppose I need to find a way to integrate them that makes sense.

Every third day is also gym day, but those aren’t necessarily rest days. Maybe every fifth? Seventh? The latter I can’t seem to work out in my head.

Last week, I finally settled on a goal for my body. It seemed like it makes sense, as I’m currently back in the best shape of my life, although a wee heavy thanks to the solitude of the global sickness. I am hopeful that if I can get down to 120-125 pounds, that I’ll finally have the abs that have been so seemingly within grasp, yet still so far away.

While that seems ridiculously low, it fits within healthy parameters given my height and frame. End of summer goal is 137, at which point I’ll reassess.

Here’s to the rest of the summer. Here’s to salads and sadness. But first, more push-ups. #loseTheCOVID19