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Olympics Ice Dancing and Fred….

So, it’s been an interesting night already. As I sit here, Ice Dancing is on. I have to say, the flame girl takes the prize for the Huh? Award. But the guy who looks like the boy in Blue Lagoon is smoking the ice right now.

 

I just had a long spin session with Fred. Now, Fred could give Mr. Masochism (my physical therapist) a lesson or two in delivering pain with a cheery smile. That man is so tall and gangly, he can’t fit right on the bike, but between his Michael Jackson songs and 80’s hip hop, he’s always smiling and daring the class not to.

One hour later, I’m pouring sweat and thinking Dante must have sojourned to Alabama, taken a Fred class, then galloped back home to pen the Inferno. Smiling? I don’t think so.

 

Dinner was homemade vegetable soup. That’s all. My legs wouldn’t hold me up for long. And trying to use the ladies’ facilities with screaming quads and an ice cold toilet seat was just pure joy. I’m surprised my heart didn’t burst with exuberance. Thanks a lot, Fred 😐