The universe has a wonderful sense of humor. Prime example is our very own free-range trainer was born on April 1st. This past April Fools Jaron turned 40. To prepare for his milestone birthday, the maestro of muscle set out to lose 30 pounds. I ponied up for losing 10 pounds to try and do a "40 by 40" contest. I'll let Jaron give you his final tally on weight loss, which far exceeded my grand total of one pound lost. I'm possibly the worst training partner ever. Thank goodness there was no wager or public shaming tide to my AWOL behavior. This is Jaron's time to shine... Check out his comment. I know his great insight on his first 40 will be comical and worth the wait until he gets back to his fighting blood level. Enjoy it while you can, because a man of his intake will not be celebrating his next 40 year milestone. For all its worth he strives to live life in order to burn out of this existence way in advance of the diaper years.
Happy 40th birthday to The ODJ!
Post script... He is a man of his word. A photo from his birthday and the final day of the weight loss journey.
I am a man of my word, and let be known I submitted multiple shirtless photos to Ole JT for this posting. I guess the editor in chief felt they toed the line of the precious PG-13 rating he holds so dear. Do man boobs count as gratuitous nudity? I fell short of my goal, which was falsely reported at 30 pounds. It was 27. Small difference, I know, but at that body fat percentage it is a chasm. I officilly dropped 21. Not bad considering the multiple friends in town and the glorious debacle that was and always will be March Madness. I know how to lose weight. If I can master hair growth and maintaining an erection for less than 4 hours, I'll be a millionaire! The photo in question was indeed from my four-oh. Mission partially accomplished. On my journey to 40, I have been the picture of fitness, the harbinger of early onset diabetes, and everything in between. Not many people can boast, or hide from, an 80 pound weight swing. My ambition to avoid the diaper years is sincere. That said, I wish to enjoy the scant years I have remaining. Dying of a weight related illness would do me in, but my remaining years would be as lonely as the current SNL ratings. I choose to be at my fighting weight with 2-5 malignant vices as my method of early euthanization. My life flame may burn out quick, but it'll be a bonfire, bitches! They say 40 is the new 30. If that logic holds, I have 9 plus years left of scamming on 20 year old chicks. I am a dirty old man, and unapologetically so. I fear I may miss my window to employ my greatest plot. I plan to fake senility before it actually gains traction. You know, as a social experiment. I want to be aware of how people react to me when they think I am senile. The comic value would be epic. I live the life I love and I love the life I live. 40 doesn't feel any different. It doesn't spark any grand introspection. It's just another trip around the sun. With the exception of my hairline, I feel like I did at 30. I act like I did at 20, when I was immature for my age. I remain yours, our 3-5 followers, your unapologetic narcissistic juvenile, now middle aged practicioner of ODJ.
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