While I had disabled my 3:50AM wakeup call from Siri, I was awoken at 4:30AM. I fell out of one of those dreams where we would do anything to climb back into it. It was one of those dreams of being with someone who on this side of wakefulness is out of reach. And the thing about dreams is that they are so vibrant, so ALIVE, that to suddenly be ripped from "reality" is unsettling. I sat on the side of my bed and shook it off, felt the pain in my first steps, and pulled on my workout Vibrams.

Sometimes we need a rhythmic cardio session in the dark to work through things. Wednesday is cardio-centric for me and while some ab work was scheduled, I chose not to in this workout return week.

I climbed aboard the elliptical and in apropos audio fashion, Daft Punk's One More Time met me randomly.

And when it comes to being "out of touch" or "out of time" or whatever Hall & Oates recapitulation best defines, my thoughts fall to my Tech Noir expedition at the turn of the year, when I plugin into the SNS mainframe—although, clearly, I'm not completely disconnected as I've got this site, though, this doesn't function much more than a system log with a Gantt chart. And there's little to be done to bridge the eternal gap.

But don't confuse the intent of my weightloss vivacity as a deliverable for Tech Noir week. While it is important to reconnect, ceteris paribus, on March 4, my numbers indicate that I'll have unracked enough fat where I'll feel comfortable for the increased load of a running regimen. It's not that I cannot run now—I even did a little bit of jogging this morning—it is a pursuit that I want to go after, but I must resist advancing its development simply because of the real threat of injury.