Totaling the metaphor

Ever heard of the term “beer belly”?
As it turns out, not a metaphor…

As usual with any big city it all comes down to “providing it doesn’t really rain this evening” and the sneakers are safely tucked in the backpack already & the works.
Have since moved the working out hours off the graveyard shift by the way, into the evenings; waking up at 05:30 am was just not cutting it.

So, back to the sneakers and the rain: Providing it doesn’t rain today I’m back to joggi-- ahh, almost jogging. I’m in no shape for jogging, if I may be completely honest with you. My knees are busted, I have a gut the size of the Death Star and the breath of a 70 year old man.
So I’m back to walking home from work today: up the long slope on Rebouças then making a right turn and straight through Paulista, then on towards home… walking, walking, walking at least up until the golden hour when I’m finally feeling like my own age again & able to withstand jogging for a couple of blocks and not dying.
Once I get home I’ll work out for like, half an hour or forty minutes tops, something like that.

I did it last year and got pretty good results out of it, till I had to quit because of a bad ingrown toenail…