MOLI VIEW™

The stationary bike becomes a place of personal rumination for me, even while a compelling college football feature is leaving newsprint on my fingers. The mind drifts to ambitious projects that nearly destroyed my life and the passively accepted assignments that may well save it. Existence is bananas, in a mean-nonsensical kind of way. The default question while I'm pedaling away the calories at my third-rate gym tends to be, "How did I get here?"

This morning was different. The navel-gazing contained more purpose than usual, as last week I committed to applying consistency to my diet and exercise routine. Where I usually lapse for the two or three days that follow my weekly weigh-in and then go balls out Sunday through Tuesday morning, this time I minimized my gorging from the jump. Where at least once in a seven-day span I would submit to my jones for two Rally's Cinnamon Apple Pies, I, just once, gave into an urge for Red Vines' 5 oz. tray of licorice twists, a chockfull of calories treat that happens to contain no fat.

More than that, I supplemented my fish and salad-rich diet with many banana, yogurt, and soy-milk ice cream smoothies. My daughter Sol insisted on pancakes, which of course she could not finish and of course I could not trash. (And, oddly, the streets were lacking in homeless beggars to feed.) That's about as bad as I got. A weekend away from my sons meant a week without calls for rich, irresistible Mexican food. When my girlfriend insisted I take her on in basketball, I showed her minimal mercy. Then she's back to her job and I'm like: Baby, don't go.

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