Set the above goal as your goal. It's reasonable. It's as close as mid-August. It's the best thing you can do for yourself this year, and always. Remember, an unexercised, unfit body is on a decline. Young lean muscle unattended fades and fat grows in the most disagreeable places. There's more. An interesting dilemma takes place behind the scenes — our body chemistry gets out of shape as well. Our fragile fat burning enzymes fail to do their job in converting fat into energy calories and we become sluggish, hypoglycemic and rely on carbs for short-lasting lifts. (Moody?) Carbs not used as energy in a deconditioned system stores as more fat. Yikes.

Well-exercised muscle on the other hand is alive, responsible for quick action and physical power. It moves us around, effectively, gracefully. Mighty muscle accounts for 90% of metabolism, burning fat calories all the time, even when we sleep. Very handy — looks good too.

This strategy is to also remind, to encourage, to arouse some honest guilt and like the Constitution and the Ten Commandments should be in effect at all times, and not altered to fit your agenda.

Adios junko foodo. Starting with breakfast, eat 4 to 6 equally spaced meals a day, more or less depending on lifestyle, current weight, goals and metabolism. Pump up the protein (animal, egg, whey, fish are the best, sorry but true), withdraw high glycemic carbs and dump the saturated fats. Drink miraculous water by the barrel and as you do, silently be thankful — you are being restored.

Misplace your lopsided scale and rigid calculator for a month: the stopwatch, the LED's, RPM's, compass, earphones, the entire precise mess. The task ahead is done better by feel, by instinct, by flow than by brains and science. Given the proper programming, you are by far the best computer ever created.

Blast the gym 3 times a week for an hour of weights, hit the streets 3 times a week for a 15 minute uphill mile and hit the edge of your bed for 10 minutes of crunches and leg raises.

Why the long puss? Is that whining, mister? Tears don't cut it, girl! The wills are weak, the disciplines are dusty. And that looks like a thin coat of tarnish on the breastplate of courage. Signs of over hibernation, comfort zone blues and procrastination.

Me? I've got some crud myself to shake loose — first thing tomorrow morning.