• +25 Pushups

Day two in Ft. Worth. For better or worse, my diet consisted of chicken fried steak, fried okra and Arnold Palmers. I managed a few pushups in the hotel room, but that's about it. We did a lot of walking, though, and spent some time watching the cattle judging. Pretty amazing to see all the farm kids primping their animals, i.e. showering, blow drying, and using an electric razor to give them a nice "fade."

Image: Teen girl resting on her cow and checking iPhone.

• +76 Pushups

Amazing: Sprained foot does not mind the elliptical machine. Basically, if I can't do cardio, I don't really know how to work out. Cardio is always the first thing, and then come pushups and situps, etc. Working out without cardio, for me, is like eating tuna casserole for breakfast.

• +25 Pushups

Turns out being sober and nursing a sprained ankle makes the late night dive bar dancing scene at a friend's birthday party somewhat of a challenge. Thank goodness a few other Jan Plan friends came to my rescue, and we left the "Brooklyn Stable" in favor of ice cream sandwiches at a meatball place in Williamsburg. No harm, no foul. You just got to choose your drug.

• +20 Pushups

Late evening yoga with Francesca Bove yesterday. In last few days, I've been remembering to do my "goal visualization" minutes. This was sort of a humorous goal, relating to my eccentric indoor soccer team; BUT I'm taking it seriously. I actually visualize myself scoring a goal, i.e. dribbling up the pitch, faking out a defender with a deft move, and then shooting on goal. It's actually pretty powerful, and hard. I have to be careful to really imagine the moves, not just to gloss over them. Actually, I just realized that in my visualizations, I've never actually followed the ball into the goal. Uh oh! Doing that now. Count it!

• +25 Pushups

Here's what happens when you stop drinking: You start baking. Sometimes it happens that you buy a bunch of bananas and then you forget that you put them on top of the fridge at work. When you discover this a week later, they're brown and way overripe.

Old me would have tossed the bunch out, and felt guilty. New sober, well-rested me realizes he has all the time in the world to make banana bread on Sunday evening. It's a simple as dialing up a recipe on TheKitchn.com.

See, now I'm that guy that brings baked goods to work. For better or worse. Count it.