Head down, depleted, a bit nauseous. A state of being familiar with those in the waning minutes of "leg day". I just sat there for over five minutes arguing with myself. Just one more set and I'm done. I mean, I did it last week. There it is in my notebook. The amount of weight I used and the number of reps I completed. I need to at least equal but preferably exceed previous performance. But not today. I'm just fried. Totally fried. I can't even keep up head up. It's like I'm in a submissive state. And, I mean, would it really make any difference? That one set? Will I suddenly reach a new uncharted plateau of strength at 61 years old? Um, no. It's not like I'm getting paid or that I am a competitive athlete. And, after all, who's going to know? But what about that saying that character is what you do when no one is watching. Remember "Rifleman Dodd" by C.S. Forester? I know what he would do. I'm just not sure if what he did was right or if it mattered? But he was admirable though it didn't seem to matter to him...