If you’re ready to try a slightly more advanced set of exercises, this is a variation I like. I do four sets, trying to beat my time from the previous session. I prefer doing the Hindu squats because being on your tiptoes engages your quads and core more than a regular squat.
And no matter how fit and strong you are, a plyometric pushup is always challenging due to the fact you’re exerting maximum force on each rep. One little caveat, however, about the plyometric pushups: I recommend stretching your wrists out beforehand and performing the exercise on a mat to soften the impact.
On the other hand, in my push to get more done I may be putting my life in peril, as well as the life of others. Face it; most accidents happen when we’re distracted. And although I’ve never maimed anyone while knee navigating, I’ve spilled yogurt in the crotch of my pants more times than I can remember.
Just last week I had to wet a few napkins to spot clean my khakis. I needed more water than anticipated, so I wound up looking like my urethra (a.k.a. peehole) had malfunctioned, which isn’t the vibe I go for when trying to close a sale. As a consequence, I had to crank up the heat all the way to dry out my pants before hitting my next stop. But my crotch wasn’t dry by the time I reached my next retailer, so I had to drive around for an additional ten minutes until my apparent pant wetting was expunged.
The fractionated palm kernel oil comes into play to give the bar a creamy chocolate coating. This oil is high in saturated fat, which adds shelf stability to the bar. More than the saturated fat content, it’s the processing that makes this ingredient one you should avoid. A few of the methods they use to extract oil from the kernel include extreme heat and the use of chemical solvents. I don’t know about you, but I prefer my chemical solvents left in cans and glass jars. And just to make sure we’re clear, I generally prefer those containers to be marked with skulls and crossbones.
If you like the idea of what a protein bar brings to the table, you know—nutrition, pick-me-up, post-workout recovery—I suggest you try making your own. The protein bar pictured above is one I’ve been making lately. Okay, bit of a fib in that last line; it’s one my wife’s been making lately. The only thing I do is shove it in my mouth. You store them in the fridge because they don’t have fractionated palm kernel oil and butylated hydroxytoluene to make them shelf stable. I pack them in my lunch, and sometimes I’ll warm it in the microwave for ten seconds and have it with my breakfast.
To chastise her for putting the rest of us commuters in a precarious situation would make me a hypocrite, which I’m okay with. But it would also mean I’d have to find somewhere to place my yogurt, and there’s just too much shit already in my center console and on the passenger seat. So for now I’ll just have to settle for clutching my spoon a little tighter as I fantasize about the retribution she would’ve received if I wasn’t so preoccupied with my healthy diet.
The white SUV next to me is weaving between the shoulder and center line. I move towards the edge of my lane to give the vehicle a wide berth. The driver, a woman in her thirties rocking some scrubs, looks up and corrects her steering so that she’s saddled in the middle of the lane again. Then she goes back to her texting, tweeting, online shopping, Candy Crushing, or whatever it is that is more important than driving. What the fuck is wrong with people? I want to lay on the horn. After all, someone needs to teach her a lesson. And although I desperately want to scare the bejesus out of her, I can’t. I’ve got this yogurt container in one hand and a spoon in the other. As far as navigating the highway, that’s why God invented the left knee.