So, I stepped on the scale at my daughter's doctor appointment today. 177 was the number. I was going to be pretty happy if I kept it close as close to 180 as possible throughout Tiffany's pregnancy. To be on the other side is very encouraging. Ideally, I'll get down to 165 for the marathon. A little lighter would be fine too, but 160 should be the floor.
In other news, I turned my goatee into a beard over the weekend. On Sunday, I was evening things out and accidentally took a chunk out the hair on my chin. I then had a decision to make. I could scrap beard week and shave everything. Or I could try to even out the error and make an odd looking beard. I went with the latter, thinking that I can get that spot to come back in.
Here are the results:
Pretty handsome, I know. Not sure why it looks like I have a wandering eye in the second one either. And the more I look at the second one, the shittier it looks. Not very even.
Maybe I should just go down to 'stache. Bring back something like this:
This was taken on the eve of the 2005 Chicago Marathon, when I ran with my cop friends. I am kidding. I don't have any friends that are cops. Acquaintances, yes; friends, no. It looks like I could be one, though. I ran with "Moustache Love" on my shirt in '05. Better than "Moustache Rides 5 Cents," I suppose. Nice glasses, too.
Riding the PR Train, Eating PR Cake
9 hours ago