Back to workie-workie

I have a date with a jump rope. I've lost half a stone already.

Keep jumping.
-Battlestar Galactica

Ugh. After a four-day weekend, I'm back to work. It's been pretty slow because of Thanksgiving. The hardest thing about today was deciding which pretty girl to have lunch with.

No fireworks in poker, so I'll have to talk about running. I've lost 10 pounds, I'm on pace to run 100 miles this month, something I haven't done in ages. This morning I was in a rush to get to work and I put on a pair of pants from a pile I couldn't fit in previously. No problem. Yay!

I'm hoping that in a few weeks when I'm in Tunica, I'll be able to wear my 15-game winner Sabre-Toothed Lime T-shirt without really embarrassing myself.

Running really curbs my desire to snack and reduces my portion sizes -- I didn't have the regular desire to take down an entire burrito at El Myr yesterday. But don't expect me to pass up a 48-ounce Porterhouse at the Horseshoe in Tunica in a few weeks when I'm there with Sham.

My theory is that the body in ancient times was used to handling sick amounts of mileage while on that Great Trek through the frozen tundra but used idle times to store energy in preparation for such a journey.

The body never considered online poker.

I haven't cashed in any tournaments or won any significant money recently, but I still have a kitty-kat swagger. I think life is the harder game to beat.

I think of a time this year when I was in Las Vegas and someone again asked me if I was John Juanda slumming it at a low-limit NL table.

"But Juanda looks like he spends more time in the gym instead of a poker table," a dealer said.

Maybe in the future there won't be much difference in comparision.