An ass kicking, from me to me

I just worked out for the first time since 2002 or so. I can't say I feel fantastic, but I feel better — not physically, of course, but mentally. I feel proactive. It is my intention to get some sort of routine going in which I a) move around and b) don't get diabetes. Because if I keep pudging it up through my twenties, I'll face the same problems everyone else in my large family faces right now: back pain, foot pain, low energy, neck pain, diabetes, heart trouble, sleep apnea, etc. And as much as I fear death, I can't imagine why I would want to expedite its cold clutches by clogging every artery in my body with chunks of goo I was too lazy to process.

Tamara has alerted me to Fitday, which is a site where you meticulously track your activities and food/beverage intake to see exactly how you're consuming and using your daily allotment of calories and such. So that should help me track my progress.

So there. The ball, she is rolling.