Brief

Entry 1

It's just six. A sad Brazilian guitar is playing in the foreground, the cool air, carrying the scent of the mid-summer morning's garden is in the room. I am sitting here almost alone--a sleeping Willow just a few feet away. 

I am sore from the hardest workout I have done in years that I did yesterday in cardiac rehab. I ran uphill at a ridiculous angle for 30 minutes. I did weight training with a higher weight than I have been doing soon after. My legs ache as if they are angry at me for letting their once muscular build atrophy. I sound like a roaring fire full of wet wood, as my knees and hips loudly pop and crack whenever I move.