It’s not often adult men feel like a blossoming pubescent girl, but I had my moment recently.

It was a weird moment. I was looking in the bathroom mirror — shirtless and thinking about what I’m going to do for the rest of my life — and I noticed I was different somehow.

I couldn’t figure it out immediately but it only took another second to realize it was my chest. After a few months of murdering my body, changing my diet and pushing myself further and further I have received the fruits of my labor: tender budding breasts.

It’s a small amount, but noticeable nonetheless. I have a horrible gauge for the growth of any other muscle on my body but I could tell right away when my chest size changed because I can guarantee there has been no muscle use there in the last 20 years.

When am I even supposed to use that muscle? Encyclopedia Britannica says it’s for the rotation of the arm but I don’t see a point in getting it super beefy. Is it for when I need to deadlift massive, lumbering objects off my body? Because that pretty much limits its effectiveness to the inside of my Anytime Fitness gym.

I understand wanting to look unified with the other, actually-worth-developing muscles, but I don’t see the appeal of having a bulging, manly chest. I guess it’s good for me because it’s the first sign of physical progress I’ve had since I’ve started this journey.

I’ve also noticed I’ve gained about five pounds, and unless someone is secretly shoving Swiss Rolls down my throat at night, I’ll take this as a good sign. I don’t think I look five pounds bigger, but that weight is clearly somewhere so I assume it’s piling in my soon-to-be calves of steel.

Bodyresults.com said there’s a lot of different factors going into when a person sees physical results such as current activity level, amount of cardio versus strength training, diet and they normally become visible after about six weeks. From what I’m seeing now, I’m glad I’m still (somewhat) on track.

I have 19 more miles to run, nine months until raceday and two newfound bosoms. Come at me, world.

—Brian Sheridan, Op/Ed Editor

You could say I’m pretty sore. And by pretty sore, I mean extremely. While I appreciate the feeling of a good workout, playing soccer again after over a year off the field promotes a sort of pain like no other.

I’ve now accustomed myself back into the heat and ice regime in hopes to prevent my body from completely falling apart (which has happened before). With a history of quad strains, it’s super important I’m on top of stretching and icing my muscles frequently.

As I set my alarm Sunday night for 4:40 a.m., I silently sighed myself to sleep knowing I would soon be hitting Bollinger field for soccer practice before the sun rises.

Early bird gets the worm, right?

Thank goodness I’ve been working out heavily leading up to lacing my cleats again, otherwise I would just be this giant out-of-shape blob running (perhaps limping) around on the field receiving weird looks from teammates.

Thankfully I can keep up with most drills and scrimmages, but the amount of work ahead of me is clear in order to prepare for preseason at the end of August, leading into our main season of play in the fall.

I guess you could say my journey toward health has proved successful over the course of the semester; I honestly didn’t think I had it in me. My quarter-life crisis actually played out in my favor, forcing me to realize how important my health is and to go after my dreams and goals with tenacity.

I’ve always thrown myself into unknown territory to challenge myself, such as when I decided I wanted to write for the school newspaper with no journalism background nor extensive writing experience. But, it proved as one of the most pivotal choices in my collegiate career.

What is life without a few risks and charting of unknown waters?  Luckily for me, soccer isn’t too unknown; it’s another challenge to take by the horns.

Senior year is around the corner, and I choose to stay motivated and ambitious. Ain’t nobody got time for the usual “senior slack” tendencies.

—Colette St. John, Managing Editor