We're two weeks out into The 13th Expedition. My takeaways thus far:

1. While I have to weigh myself, I feel lighter and look forward to the weigh-in at the end of the month;
2. While I feel the need to work out before first light, I want to optimize sleep, leaving the dilemma unanswered.

The sustainability of a high fat diet looks promising, but, I've got 16 weeks to go in comparing it to my most successful string of Expeditions in 2019 that kicked off just a pound more than The 13th Expedition:

• The Lost 7th Expedition: 43 lbs
• The 8th Expedition: 24 lbs
• The 9th Expedition: 14.75 lbs.

What I really want to know is what will happen after 3 Expeditions? I quit in 2019 and the graph on Fit shows the rocket ride across the scale. Furthermore, I'm curious as to how I'll move to a non-tracking diet once I enter my goal range. Clearly, it'll involve choices with zero-to-minimum amount of carbs and when I drink my french press coffee blended with butter and coconut oil, that's a choice I'll toast. Of course, all of this is discussion for 2021.

I'm going to go ahead and call it: a high fat diet will be my approach for 2020 and beyond. Consider the approach: I'm losing weight with it, I ignore calories, and I'm safe with 0 threats of binges. That's the recipe of daily compounding of fitness success. While not perfect, I've scheduled today's intake:

• Fat: 197 grams (190 goal)
• Protein: 127 grams (140 goal)
• Total Carbs: 29.5 (30 limit)

As I now have my diet in place to achieve weightloss, I will not post further on the subject—HUZZAH, because it's a bit of a drag to discuss. And C'MON—this ain't a health nut blog!

Shrouded by a torrent of rainfall throughout the night, we make landfall upon July's beach of dark skies as echoes of adventure drum its quickened tempo of progression. These are not the days to slide into the dementia of the sea, but to crash our hammers onto the annals of our timeline. These are the celestial days between what is and what shall be. Go forth, for these are the days of Avalon!

Therefore, drop that Cold-Forged Breastplate of the Banished and Leather Wraps of Doomed Dreams. Equip your Stormguard's Adamantite Tunic of Fury and Conqueror's Gloves of the Tiger.

Abandon that most foul Longbow of Putrid Paragon and raise your Blade of Oblivion's Call of Light's Hope...

...for tonight, we ride!

June 30, 2012. I glided across a concourse of the harried current of Miami International Airport. I climbed out of the summer waters and stood upon the threshold of adventure. "What lies ahead?"

There was London, of course, the greatest cosmopolitan city in the world doing its final prep work to host the Summer Olympics. I would be there 1 July - 4 July before embarking upon a flight on the American Independence Day to that great medieval town / spy city of the 1960's, Prague. My itinerary from there included a two-night stay until spending the rest of the month, 6 July - 27 July, in Plzeň, Czech Republic, to earn a TEFL certification and complete my graduate studies. With one night in Prague as the Olympic Opening Ceremonies commenced, what boon would I bring back to America?

As I stood at the threshold in this call to adventure, I did not know what was ahead, beyond these summer months, past familiar autumn winds, and deep into the frozen wastelands of the north. On that Miami day, I looked across the ocean and felt the warmth on my skin, sanguinely unaware of future days.

With older eyes, I would have been more cognizant (wouldn't I've?) known the places to pivot (shouldn't I've?)—how to...how to...evade all the weight of nights of looping what-if analysis...no, I did not have older eyes and Future Me, for all of his promise, seems to have never found the keys to the DeLorean.

On that Miami day, I embraced adventure with Vedder's soundtrack of Into the Wild on my iPod, Shinedown's Second Chance in my hands, and R.E.M.'s Überlin in my heart.

On today's June 30, I stand again as that trilogy plays on.