The great pandemic has not been kind to me.  Nor has it been kind to anyone.

To personalize this, I can report that the pandemic has increased my waistline and I am ready to retaliate.

Working in a school, wondering about the uncertainty of that and being compelled, due to contact tracing to be tested for the Corona Virus twice, I have been a nervous wreck.  I have, in the process, surrendered to the fork and spoon.

Too much pizza.  Too much fried fish.  Too much cereal at night.  Too many burgers.  Too much of….fill in the blank.

I have found solace in good vittles.  In turn, the vittles have not been as good to me as I have been to them.

And so it begins.  This old boy is fully vaccinated and still scared.  As I have reported here before, my lungs are not my friend. I was born that way.  I have been beyond nervous through this pandemic.  I don’t want to lose my breath.  I have felt fear all my life in my pursuit to breathe clearly.  On a few occasions, I have been in doubt.  On a few occasions, trips to Denver, Colorado, I have never felt so revived as clean air was felt in my lungs in places that I did not know existed. I never felt better.

And so it begins.  It is my time to turn my nose up on the pandemic.  It is my time to get back to the mode of self-preservation.

Many of my friends know that in 2012 I went through a transformation.  I lost a great deal of weight and kept it off for the longest time.  No, I am not up to the weight I was then when I knew it was time to change things.  But, I am closer to that point than I was on the better side of it.

So…it is time.

More exercise.  Less fried foods.  Less cereal at night.  And the list goes on.

Can I do it?  Sure I can.  It is about priorities.  This ain’t brain surgery.

It is about getting on the exercise bike in the morning.  Leaving the toast behind afterwards.  Eating more protein.  Drinking plenty of water.  Being disciplined about eating regularly.  Eating and drinking the right things.  Walking more.  Lifting some weights.  Doing a work out that Michael Powell gave me to follow before I went out to the Rose Bowl to kick my field goals (I was 2 for 2 in Pasadena) and making more progress.

On these pages I have spoken the rights.  When my Granny was dying, I told you about it.  When I was having a good time, I told you about it.  I am ready to tell you about this endeavor too.  It is time.  I got a bunch of clothes in my closet yelling out my name.  I have an eye on one particular long sleeve shirt that looks like it came straight from Kings Row.

I am just speaking the rights.

Chicago.

Danny Johnson