Today, yes, TODAY, is Chocopocalypse!

And I just realized that I didn't write about last year's Chocopocalypse, which is in some what sacrilege! I spent it driving from Chicago to Ottawa with Jonathan and his mother, tasting, eating and commenting on 24 different bars of chocolate. I was going strong until the hemp chocolate, which was gross enough that I nearly vomitted in Carol's car. That wasn't a good moment. The drive was an adventure and lots of fun despite that moment.

This year, I wanted a quiet Chocopocalypse: maybe a hot chocolate and a bar of chocolate. I've been going as non-sugar as a sugar junkie can go, and didn't really want to shock my system with too much chocolate. Which is to say, this Lent thing may have run its course.

I started the morning with a chocolate croissant. For once, I didn't overcook it, which was great.

Jonathan sent me the link to this image. The image had me crying, because yes.

To whoever wrote this: I don't understand the owl, I love the story, thank you.

Okay, so, the thing about this burpee challenge is that it isn't forgiving: it is burpees every day, it is an increasing number of burpees every day.

Which pretty much means that any injury that I can't compensate for in some way to give my body a chance to heal, will get worse. And worse.

My injuries had so far rotated from spot to spot, never sticking around long enough to become problematic. First the problem was my left knee. Then my right knee. Then my upper left arm. Then my right wrist. For each of them I managed to adjust my burpees, and keep going.

Until this one.

I have managed to strain, possibly pull, my rhombus minor. I am finding pushups nearly impossible. They are incredibly painful just to the inside of my upper left scapula. Burpees 80-85 were so painful, I cried.