The other day, Conlin said the following:
"Summers off aren't supposed to refer to your hygiene." 
I think he was referring to the pattern I've developed: 
1. Go to spin class.
2. Contemplate showering but decide What's the point?  I have to coach later, anyway.
3. Coach.
4. Contemplate not showering again because I'm just going to another spin class in the morning.  Except for this time I *cough* normally end up showering.  
The logic behind this routine is this: if I'm already gross and sweaty, I'll be less reluctant to get gross and sweaty again.  Solid, no?
In other news:
I tried a saltwater flush this morning.  The operative word being tried.  
A saltwater flush requires that you chug a quart of salty, warm water.  The first couple sips are reminiscent of broth; quickly, though, it begins to taste like vomit.  And thirty-two ounces is no joke.  But, in the name of good health, I sat down with my mugs of salt water and began to guzzle.  It only took me about 12 ounces to start feeling really sick [I was teary-eyed and muttering anguished exclamations even though I was without an audience], but pushed through determined to wash out all the gunk in my body.  
Turns out, though, I was only adding gunk.  Because I used the wrong type of salt, which renders the process ineffective.  
I can't even-
I just-
[Insert sympathetic expletive here.]

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oy I tried a salt water flush one time. I literally thought I was dying. I found out that your body responds to that much salt as if it is a deadly toxin, so you barf and crap until you die. And then you cry. Albeit I had been overzealous and used too much salt. Nevertheless; never again.
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