Setenta!

Yesterday marked Day 70. For once, I'm at a loss for words. I can't even be sarcastic or funny right now. I'm like, hella serious and hyperaware. I finally see and feel and BELIEVE the changes in my body (and we're not even done!). I've got little to say, though I feel reflective and illuminated with all we have learned, sort of like this "halo" tape I'll use next time I'm on the back of a motorcycle:


Patrick says I'm in the ZONE. Here's the closest I ever got to that elusive Bermuda triangle of serenity, strength, and habit:

For the first time, I believe that this body is really mine (as opposed to PCP's Frankenstein) and that these muscles aren't part of an art project that I'll take apart, recycle, or destroy at the end of 90 days.

For the first time, I can't wait to get home to my jump rope. Sometimes I don't want the jumping to end, and then I can't believe that I've gotten to that point. Will this feeling last long? Will I lose the eye of the tiger? And then I have to remind myself to calm down, stop spazzin'. Accept and enjoy this phase, and don't worry about if and when it's going to fade.

What I still need help with: the plank. I don't know how to get through this one without quivering and panicking. I find it hard to distract myself while staring at the floor. Does anyone have any special strategies for this MONSTER ab sculptor? Cuz' next time I go home, I've got to do this: