Spaghetti man

You probably didn't realize this, but my commitment to flossing was only step one in a grand plan to get myself back on track. And not the old track, but a new and better track. A track that will take me farther, so to speak.

About two months ago, an issue of Esquire arrived with an article that seemed tailor made for me, chemo boy. The article is called, Retool, Reboot, Rebuild. It is a seven day program designed to help you get in shape and stay in shape, and to live a healthier life by eliminating a lot crap that's not good for you. For example, if you click the link, you see each day has several assignments. On Day 1 you are supposed to buy sea salt (table salt is treated with aluminum, which isn't so good for you). This is probably what caught my attention, I already have a lot of sea salt, so I started thinking this get in shape stuff might be easy. You'll also notice Day 3 is titled "Diet and Flossing" - thus the flossing.

I read through the article and decided that when I was done with treatment, I was going to follow the program. It sounded exactly like what I needed - to retool, reboot, and rebuild. Even before chemo ended, I started doing little things on the list, like getting rid of plastic and generally confusing Mathilde with a new, paranoid skepticism about all kinds of foods that I used to just gobble down.

I was thinking yesterday that I am at the point where I can start. Chemo is behind me. Radiation doesn't start for a week (and its not supposed to be that bad). My big toe is still black and blue and painful (I wasn't kidding about that) so running isn't much fun, but my lungs are pretty good, and I don't think there is a risk of me blowing out the hole in my artery any longer.

So yesterday, to test myself, I got down on the floor and did 25 pushups. Then I picked up some dumbbells and lifted those about 12 times. To top it all off, and close out my first major work out session in months, I did 15 squats with the dumbbells.

33 hours later this is what I can tell you. I now wince if I have to lift my arms above my head and the pain in the back of my legs causes a slight limp and prevents me from picking up anything that I happen to drop on the floor. And no, I'm not gonna say how much the dumbbells weigh.

I guess I can't say I'm off to a flying start, but I am still really looking forward to it. If this cancer experience has done anything for me it has totally, completely shaken off any remnants I may have had of teenage immortality. A pretty obvious fact of life has smacked me right between the eyes. And that fact is this - we only get one car. If Tom Cochrane is right, and life is a highway, then we only get one car.

Now, our real car is a 20 year old Volvo that still runs pretty well even though we basically just give it gas. But if I knew it was going to be our last car ever, our only car, I sure as hell would change the oil more often. I'd do something about those rust spots too. So, that's what I'm gonna do, change my oil and bang out a bit of rust (you know, my metaphorical oil). And if your car is anything like mine, then you should consider doing it too.

And remember to floss.

UPDATE: Mathilde pointed out that if you are of a certain nature then you can grossly misinterpret the 2nd to last paragraph (the one where I mention metaphorical oil). I don't see what she is talking about, but something had her laughing her ass off. This was not intended. So, if you, like my wife, see something funny there, then super! But you're the sicko, not me.