I will admit it openly: I need Camp Panda.

Not that I’m some horribly overweight guy hanging out in the basement of a parental unit (I mean, really, who builds basements in landfill?).  But it was kind of fun knowing there was at least one major leaguer as roly poly as I was.  Am.

And now he’s not.

The good thing is that Camp Panda is very accessible.  The first thing you need is a former gold medalist to run you through your paces.  Then workout with some Division I-A football players.  And then, work out two times a day, six times a week.  Then, get a chef to prepare six meals a day.

Pretty easy.

The six-figure paycheck to find the time to do all that probably helps, but eh, I’m sure I can manage it.

So I’m going on Camp Panda this season….eventually.  Does interrupting a 15-minute stairmaster session with a stop at the front desk to flirt with the girl there count as working out twice a day?  Oh, and six meals a day?  Good thing I’ve got a couple of chefs I have access to who work cheap.  One’s Scottish, but the other’s from down south.  Kentucky, or something.

This’ll be a snap!

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