Isn't There A Pill for That?
I re-entered the Sixth Circle of Hell this afternoon, otherwise known as the gym. I call it the 'Sixth Circle' because there are worse things, like baby showers, birthday parties at Chucky Cheese, and dental work without Novocaine, just to name a few. I have to admit - it had been awhile. Like since August 2010, the week before my vacation. Yes, I know it's been nearly four months. Time sure does have a way of sneaking up on you.
I honestly don't feel as out of shape as I probably should. That or my expectations are really low. I made it through cardio, abs, and a short lifting session with little trouble. I do walk a lot and my job is fairly physical so I guess I'm lucky in that regard. My elbows still feel like I need double 'Tommy John' surgery (for the uninitiated, that's the surgery all the great pitchers end up getting when they tear up all the tendons in their elbows). I'm really not sure I have a tendon that isn't shredded. I'm waiting for one or both of my elbows to dislocate and leave my forearms dangling lifelessly, yet painfully, by a thread at my side. It's a nice image, isn't it?
So, anyway... Yes, I returned to the gym today. I used to be ultra-dedicated. I worked out twice a day every day (including all major and minor holidays) for more than a decade. Of course that's been nearly a decade ago. A decade ago!?! Like I said, time has a way of sneaking up on you. It's impossible to believe that I'm still in decent shape. By that I mean that I'm in better shape that 75% of American adults. That's either a sad commentary about the state of most Americans' health or a wondrous observation about the enduring nature of my fitness level. I'd like to say it's both. I mean I have to reap some benefit from working out so hard for so long in my twenties and thirties. I'm sure there will be a diminishing return on that as the years go by, so I really should be a wee bit more consistent. If I'm already noticing declines at forty-one, there's no telling what will happen in my fifties. And given that I want to live to be 103, I better find some focus somewhere.
I wish I could bring myself to be as dedicated as I used to be, but it's just not going to happen. I hated the gym then and I hate it now. When I was young and stupid, I was able to overcome. Now? I give in to the hate. And my strong sense of self prevents me from doing things I hate. I made myself go today, but I can't vouch for tomorrow. I know I should. Hell, I majored in Kinesiology in grad school. My thesis topic had I actually written it? Exercise motivation in women. Yep, I'm a near expert in this crap, yet I can't get my ass to the gym with any regularity.
I used to get pissed when my clients would ask if there wasn't just some pill they could take and be done with it. Argh. No. No. NO. If there was a pill, everyone would be fit and then it wouldn't be as stunning or as important. It's all about the work you put in. Blah, blah, blah. A decade and a half later, I'm wishing I'd invented that damn pill. Or maybe a fruit-flavored Fitness Gummy. They make vitamins that way now. Why not a fitness pill? I know, I know. It goes against everything I supposedly believe in. I need to put in the work, however hellish it may seem, and rake in the results. I used to love being 'the girl with the arms' (I had that honor in three states). At this point, I'm either 'the girl who looks like the girl who used to have the arms' or 'the girl with the skinny yet flabby arms'. Neither is acceptable.
I know what this means - more regular visits to the Sixth Circle. It still beats walking through a Reptile House or listening to bad karaoke, but not by much. All I have to do is commit to less than one hour a few times a week. It truly turns my stomach. What I really want is a used Spinning bike (notice I said 'used'? I'm easier than I look). I promise I'd use it regularly, right up here in my little loft. Back in the day, I loved to hammer on the bike. I assume I'd still tolerate it enough to do it with some consistency. Maybe not every day, but often. All I'd need is the bike and a few hundred push-ups a week and I'd be back in shape in no time. If only... If only... Of course, that's not going to happen anytime soon so I am left with the Sixth Circle and a battle against hatred. Wish me luck.
I honestly don't feel as out of shape as I probably should. That or my expectations are really low. I made it through cardio, abs, and a short lifting session with little trouble. I do walk a lot and my job is fairly physical so I guess I'm lucky in that regard. My elbows still feel like I need double 'Tommy John' surgery (for the uninitiated, that's the surgery all the great pitchers end up getting when they tear up all the tendons in their elbows). I'm really not sure I have a tendon that isn't shredded. I'm waiting for one or both of my elbows to dislocate and leave my forearms dangling lifelessly, yet painfully, by a thread at my side. It's a nice image, isn't it?
So, anyway... Yes, I returned to the gym today. I used to be ultra-dedicated. I worked out twice a day every day (including all major and minor holidays) for more than a decade. Of course that's been nearly a decade ago. A decade ago!?! Like I said, time has a way of sneaking up on you. It's impossible to believe that I'm still in decent shape. By that I mean that I'm in better shape that 75% of American adults. That's either a sad commentary about the state of most Americans' health or a wondrous observation about the enduring nature of my fitness level. I'd like to say it's both. I mean I have to reap some benefit from working out so hard for so long in my twenties and thirties. I'm sure there will be a diminishing return on that as the years go by, so I really should be a wee bit more consistent. If I'm already noticing declines at forty-one, there's no telling what will happen in my fifties. And given that I want to live to be 103, I better find some focus somewhere.
I wish I could bring myself to be as dedicated as I used to be, but it's just not going to happen. I hated the gym then and I hate it now. When I was young and stupid, I was able to overcome. Now? I give in to the hate. And my strong sense of self prevents me from doing things I hate. I made myself go today, but I can't vouch for tomorrow. I know I should. Hell, I majored in Kinesiology in grad school. My thesis topic had I actually written it? Exercise motivation in women. Yep, I'm a near expert in this crap, yet I can't get my ass to the gym with any regularity.
I used to get pissed when my clients would ask if there wasn't just some pill they could take and be done with it. Argh. No. No. NO. If there was a pill, everyone would be fit and then it wouldn't be as stunning or as important. It's all about the work you put in. Blah, blah, blah. A decade and a half later, I'm wishing I'd invented that damn pill. Or maybe a fruit-flavored Fitness Gummy. They make vitamins that way now. Why not a fitness pill? I know, I know. It goes against everything I supposedly believe in. I need to put in the work, however hellish it may seem, and rake in the results. I used to love being 'the girl with the arms' (I had that honor in three states). At this point, I'm either 'the girl who looks like the girl who used to have the arms' or 'the girl with the skinny yet flabby arms'. Neither is acceptable.
I know what this means - more regular visits to the Sixth Circle. It still beats walking through a Reptile House or listening to bad karaoke, but not by much. All I have to do is commit to less than one hour a few times a week. It truly turns my stomach. What I really want is a used Spinning bike (notice I said 'used'? I'm easier than I look). I promise I'd use it regularly, right up here in my little loft. Back in the day, I loved to hammer on the bike. I assume I'd still tolerate it enough to do it with some consistency. Maybe not every day, but often. All I'd need is the bike and a few hundred push-ups a week and I'd be back in shape in no time. If only... If only... Of course, that's not going to happen anytime soon so I am left with the Sixth Circle and a battle against hatred. Wish me luck.
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