Pumping Irony

PUMPING IRONY: My Facebook Marriage
My Lovely Wife and I got married on Facebook this evening. She, sitting comfortably in her favorite chair across the living room from me in my favorite chair, noticed in a bit of a panic that she’d not identified her husband on her Facebook page and quickly remedied the situation with a few keystrokes before giving me that look…

PUMPING IRONY: Taking It on the Shin
It’s definitely December now (a balmy 24 degrees this morning), so I’ve parked my bicycle in the garage for the next four months and will begin my day with a walking commute up the street to the train station, across Hiawatha Avenue, through Minnehaha Park (stopping to admire how the falls freeze from the bottom up), across the Intercity Bridge…

PUMPING IRONY: Pain Reliever
It used to be that the second day after basketball I’d really feel the pain (it’s called DOMS, delayed onset muscle soreness), but I was surprised yesterday morning to find that I wasn’t hobbling around as much as I thought I might. It’s all relative, of course, but aside from a mysterious twinge at the top of my left…

PUMPING IRONY: Attention Deficit
I strive on a fairly regular basis to reduce my natural obliviousness to things (it’s a guy thing), but I do not always succeed. Take Tuesday’s workout, for instance. I’d been avoiding the gym during the latter phases of its renovation — it was actually closed for a few days last week — so when I showed up after…

PUMPING IRONY: No More Excuses
My father died 30 years ago today, so some of my siblings and I (along with my daughter) will be marking the occasion later this afternoon at a tiny cemetery in Becker, Minn., where he and my mother are buried — along with a large contingent of the Cox clan (including my grandfather and great-grandfather). There will be much reminiscing…

PUMPING IRONY: Sweat Shop
A gorgeous autumn morning for a bike ride. The trees along the Mississippi are beginning to turn and the squirrels in Minnehaha Park are frantically building their winter food cache. The chill in the air gives me permission to pump a little harder on my way over the bridge and up the big hill to the office, but I…

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.

PUMPING IRONY: Calories and Cardio
So, as promised in my earlier post, I’m reporting back. And as I suspected, I haven’t been able to get to the gym every day on a regular schedule since then, but I have been getting in some good workouts when I’ve been down there. Most notably, I’ve taken my young PT’s advice about lengthening…

PUMPING IRONY: A Brave New Direction?
It’s been about a week now since I made it downstairs to the gym (lots of evening work recently), so I can’t say I’ve been very diligent on the exercise front. I have been bicycling into the office every day, a practice that has been made more challenging by winds that have threatened to sweep…

PUMPING IRONY: An Exercise in Humility
I was back in the Pit Monday, lifting and sweating and feeling generally OK about this fitness thing, when I ran into Robyn Wells, an LTF personal trainer who I met recently through my rugby-playing colleague JS. Robyn is a 20-something powerhouse athlete who specializes in teaching us lesser beings how to get the most out of their workouts. And she generously offered to help me out.

PUMPING IRONY: Super-Size Me!
No offense, Tony. As promised, I’ve spent the last few days faithfully chronicling my entire food intake, an exercise that has forced me to become a bit more mindful of my eating decisions even as it has revealed how circumstances can alter intentions. Exhibit A: On Day 1, I enjoyed a nutritious breakfast (yogurt, granola…



