Ftrain, by Paul Ford

Getting back on the wagon. Another morning of jump-rope experiments. I don't like going out in the daylight, in the backyard, with all the windows facing me, but it's raining, so I feel at least somewhat protected. My goal was to get the rope under me 25 times. Helpful:

Buddy Lee, jump-rope expert:

Thus we learn that concrete--which is the only surface currently available to me--is a problem. Still, I can solve that later, given that for right now I'm only able to get the rope under me 25 times.

Yes to the double hop.

There was a moment last night on my inaugural jog when I ran past some mirrors on 9th St. I don't know why someone has installed a set of mirrors, but there they are. Up until I passed the mirrors I had felt very nervous. Whenever I saw people in the distance I slowed to a walk because I didn't want them to make fun of me, to point out the audacity of my running at a snail's pace. (People are shit. Me too. People, in general, are just shit.) But in the mirrors on 9th St. I saw that I'm just some random big dude jogging off that 70 or 80 lbs of fail. That amount--70 lbs--could happen to any 6'3" man. A guy like that isn't really much of a figure of fun. He's good only for the mildest mirth of evil apes; I mean, you can make fun of his fat ass, but there are many softer, more vulnerable targets available. Soon, if I can stay with the plan, I will be utterly ignorable.

Weight: 293.5 lbs