*robot sounds*
::reading fault codes:: 
::prime directive–move forward–do not stop::
::battery power–100%::

  My robotic systems have taken over. I am a living, breathing cyborg. (ok, not really… But for the sake of this post, I am.) Lol
  My prime directive for the gym this morning was to step it up a notch. I left for the gym early. I arrived at 5:15, and proceeded to set up my workout:
Start pedaling, to turn on recumbent bike.
Program? Random hill.
Weight?   I punched it in. (not telling. Lol)
Level?  11
Time? 90 minutes.
  I figured I should drop the level by one if i was going to add another 50 percent of time to my workout. Around the first big hill i started regretting it… It was still really tough… And by adding 30 minutes, I had to spend more time on each section. Lol. I started thinking that I should have put the level lower.
  Fatboy has been quiet the past few days. He doesn’t complain so much, and he’s starting to sound sick. I think Fatboy is dying. But, coming in hot on his coattails is Borgboy.
  Borgboy is like Steve Austin on roids. Healthboy was huffing and puffing, and slowing down when Borgboy came into play. The rpms shot upward of 90 from a measly 50 and my legs, while still burning, just went with it.
  “Your life as it has been, is over. From this time forward, you will service us. I am the beginning, the end, the one who is many.” Was it’s only statement.
  I am being assimilated… And I don’t mind. It is my strength when I am weak. My energy when I have none. Part man, part machine… I will not stop.
  (I am not a trekkie. I did think this was a good analogy however. I am also not schizophrenic. This is just how I process my thoughts. I gather, that as writers, we think differently. We have the ability to put into words, what others can’t. This has always been my thing, and it comes very easy and naturally to me… Unlike math. Although, I realize that just maybe… It’s the Borg collective that processes my thoughts. Lol) 😉
  Have a good day everyone. Thanks for reading. 🙂