There is nothing worse than moving or helping someone move. I know this so I didn't ask any friends to help. We did most of it ourselves with help from my sister, brother-in-law, my mom, and nephew. On Saturday, for three full hours, I loaded a twelve-foot trailer by myself. Yup, heavy totes, boxes, a desk, tables, and more. Pretty much our whole life moved from our apartment to our new house.

I am not one to complain. It does zero good because the job must get done. But since the move is complete, I would like to complain. I have also come to the conclusion that I am getting old. I used muscles that I forgot I had or didn't know existed. My whole body hurt including my toes! I hadn't been that sore since I played soccer in college and we had triple practices in the summer. We even ran sprints on the beach and I think I am sorer today than I was then.

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But that was also twenty-plus years ago. I'll say it. I'm old, fat, and sore but I just moved into a brand new house and things are pretty good. So what I can't climb the stairs of my new house to enjoy my brand new bedroom set, I should heal by June. Who cares that I can't throw the baseball with Ryan because my arms are too sore from carrying all of those heavy boxes and totes. He is in a neighborhood now that he can do those things with his friends.

I'm joking, but I will say that this move has been a wake-up call to start working out again, lose some weight and get in shape. My dad always said that round is a shape, but I think I need to get in gear.

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