Immortal Fitness
I can assure you that I'm going to piss a few people off in the next couple minutes. Another good few will be so incredulous they may not keep reading. Truthfully? I don't give a good G-damn. These are my thoughts, my ideas, and my blog. I can say what I want without fear of reprisal or repercussion. That said, I shall proceed.
One year ago, at age forty, I was in the best shape of my life. I worked a very physical job that required cardiovascular and muscular strength. I skated, played tennis, and went to the gym at least five days a week. Not only was I thin, I was supremely fit. And proud of it. Before turning forty, I vowed to re-define the decade. I wasn't going to fear getting older; I was going to make age submit to me. I was the boss and I would determine just how fit a forty-year-old could be. As I roared through the first six months of forty, I found that my fitness had no bounds. I truly believed that I could do anything physically I wanted to do.
Then I moved to Austin. I no longer had a physical job. I wasn't skating, playing tennis, or going to the gym with any regularity, if at all. In ten short months, the fitness that I had worked so hard to gain slowly slipped away. At forty-one-and-a-quarter, I find myself in nearly the worst shape of my life. I honestly can't remember ever feeling this out of shape. I hate that I can't run as far as I want and that I get tired playing tennis. I hate that I can't always lift what I need to lift at work. I hate that I feel blah, drab, and un-energetic. Even the arms (Stacee Arms) that I have long prided myself on are holding on mostly by reputation not by actual fact. This angers and disappoints me. I never wanted this to happen yet after just ten months of inactivity, here I am - as mortal as the girl next door.
I don't like being mortal and unfit. By most standards, I am still 'thin'. In fact, I am so very, very tired of people telling me that I have nothing to worry about because I'm so thin. My signature line, "See me naked then we'll talk", gets folks all riled up. "OMG, STACEE! You are soooooooooo thin. Shut UP!". Argh... New flash, folks - Thin doesn't always equal fit and overweight doesn't always equal unfit. I know plenty of thin people that can't run a city block or do one push-up. I also know several overweight people (those most would probably label 'fat') who can run mile after mile and do push-up after push-up. In this case, size means nothing. By the Grace of God, I am thin (according to most people) and appear fit. I admit the illusion is great, but I don't live with the illusion. I live with the truth. I look at myself in the mirror every day and I know what I like to look like and how healthy I like to be . I am neither.
I was about to apologize for having high standards for myself, but I'm not going to. I have lived most of my life saying "good enough is good enough". It's more or less my mantra and works in almost every situation I can think of. I don't believe in going crazy and pushing and pushing when good enough is good enough. I've gotten in trouble with my parents, teachers, bosses, and girlfriends over the years for this stance. They think I could do more or be more. I say why, when good enough is good enough? At this point in my health and fitness, I'm a light year from good in my mind. Everyone around me can tell me that I have nothing to worry about. I'm thin enough, fit enough, good enough. I can't believe I'm saying this, because it goes against my soul in so many ways, but bull shit. Bull shit. Good enough in this case is NOT good enough. Not for me.
I was the fittest forty year old I'd ever met (I haven't met Dara Torres). I want to be the fittest forty-one year old I've ever met. I have six month to improve my status. It's not going to be as easy as it was a year ago. My job is physical, but not as grueling as it was back in Texarkana. Plus, I can't find a gym that compares to St. Michaels, nor do I have a place to skate or as many tennis partners. Then there's the psychological dead-weight I'm carry around that makes it really, really hard to motivate myself; I feel like I'm starting below ground-level zero, like I have to run a mile before even starting the race. Granted I'm probably not as bad as all that, but to me (which is all that matters) I'm in a pretty sucky place. The bottom line? I'm going to have to dig deep to regain my immortality.
And I do want to be immortal again. I love being the fittest person in the room and I love being so healthy that I never get sick (with the marked exception of the Chicken Pox Vacation of '09). So, it's time to get busy. I have managed to re-divide the very small pie (about the size of a head of a pin) that is my budget and I think I've loosened a enough to be able to join a gym. Of course, I'm still looking for a gym I like (I'd probably kill for access to a Spin bike, not Spin classes, just a bike) and I'll keep looking until I find one. I'd also love to find a safe place to skate. All in good time I suppose, but I don't feel like I have much time. Sigh...
I'm sorry if I've pissed people off by being angry about my un-fit thinness. There's nothing I can do about the standards I set for myself as they compare to the standards most set for themselves. I'm not saying that there is anything wrong with being overweight or un-fit. I wish health for everyone, but that is truly a personal decision. I know what I expect of myself and this slovenly, un-fit body ain't it. I don't care how thin anyone says I am or how much weight they think I need to gain to be 'healthy' (Please note - my 'healthy' differs quite a bit from the standard version of 'healthy', which differs quite a bit from the East Texas version of 'healthy'). I want to be proud of me, my body, my fitness, and my health. So sue me, I want to be immortal. Anyone who doesn't get it, can suck it.
One year ago, at age forty, I was in the best shape of my life. I worked a very physical job that required cardiovascular and muscular strength. I skated, played tennis, and went to the gym at least five days a week. Not only was I thin, I was supremely fit. And proud of it. Before turning forty, I vowed to re-define the decade. I wasn't going to fear getting older; I was going to make age submit to me. I was the boss and I would determine just how fit a forty-year-old could be. As I roared through the first six months of forty, I found that my fitness had no bounds. I truly believed that I could do anything physically I wanted to do.
Then I moved to Austin. I no longer had a physical job. I wasn't skating, playing tennis, or going to the gym with any regularity, if at all. In ten short months, the fitness that I had worked so hard to gain slowly slipped away. At forty-one-and-a-quarter, I find myself in nearly the worst shape of my life. I honestly can't remember ever feeling this out of shape. I hate that I can't run as far as I want and that I get tired playing tennis. I hate that I can't always lift what I need to lift at work. I hate that I feel blah, drab, and un-energetic. Even the arms (Stacee Arms) that I have long prided myself on are holding on mostly by reputation not by actual fact. This angers and disappoints me. I never wanted this to happen yet after just ten months of inactivity, here I am - as mortal as the girl next door.
I don't like being mortal and unfit. By most standards, I am still 'thin'. In fact, I am so very, very tired of people telling me that I have nothing to worry about because I'm so thin. My signature line, "See me naked then we'll talk", gets folks all riled up. "OMG, STACEE! You are soooooooooo thin. Shut UP!". Argh... New flash, folks - Thin doesn't always equal fit and overweight doesn't always equal unfit. I know plenty of thin people that can't run a city block or do one push-up. I also know several overweight people (those most would probably label 'fat') who can run mile after mile and do push-up after push-up. In this case, size means nothing. By the Grace of God, I am thin (according to most people) and appear fit. I admit the illusion is great, but I don't live with the illusion. I live with the truth. I look at myself in the mirror every day and I know what I like to look like and how healthy I like to be . I am neither.
I was about to apologize for having high standards for myself, but I'm not going to. I have lived most of my life saying "good enough is good enough". It's more or less my mantra and works in almost every situation I can think of. I don't believe in going crazy and pushing and pushing when good enough is good enough. I've gotten in trouble with my parents, teachers, bosses, and girlfriends over the years for this stance. They think I could do more or be more. I say why, when good enough is good enough? At this point in my health and fitness, I'm a light year from good in my mind. Everyone around me can tell me that I have nothing to worry about. I'm thin enough, fit enough, good enough. I can't believe I'm saying this, because it goes against my soul in so many ways, but bull shit. Bull shit. Good enough in this case is NOT good enough. Not for me.
I was the fittest forty year old I'd ever met (I haven't met Dara Torres). I want to be the fittest forty-one year old I've ever met. I have six month to improve my status. It's not going to be as easy as it was a year ago. My job is physical, but not as grueling as it was back in Texarkana. Plus, I can't find a gym that compares to St. Michaels, nor do I have a place to skate or as many tennis partners. Then there's the psychological dead-weight I'm carry around that makes it really, really hard to motivate myself; I feel like I'm starting below ground-level zero, like I have to run a mile before even starting the race. Granted I'm probably not as bad as all that, but to me (which is all that matters) I'm in a pretty sucky place. The bottom line? I'm going to have to dig deep to regain my immortality.
And I do want to be immortal again. I love being the fittest person in the room and I love being so healthy that I never get sick (with the marked exception of the Chicken Pox Vacation of '09). So, it's time to get busy. I have managed to re-divide the very small pie (about the size of a head of a pin) that is my budget and I think I've loosened a enough to be able to join a gym. Of course, I'm still looking for a gym I like (I'd probably kill for access to a Spin bike, not Spin classes, just a bike) and I'll keep looking until I find one. I'd also love to find a safe place to skate. All in good time I suppose, but I don't feel like I have much time. Sigh...
I'm sorry if I've pissed people off by being angry about my un-fit thinness. There's nothing I can do about the standards I set for myself as they compare to the standards most set for themselves. I'm not saying that there is anything wrong with being overweight or un-fit. I wish health for everyone, but that is truly a personal decision. I know what I expect of myself and this slovenly, un-fit body ain't it. I don't care how thin anyone says I am or how much weight they think I need to gain to be 'healthy' (Please note - my 'healthy' differs quite a bit from the standard version of 'healthy', which differs quite a bit from the East Texas version of 'healthy'). I want to be proud of me, my body, my fitness, and my health. So sue me, I want to be immortal. Anyone who doesn't get it, can suck it.
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