Back to the Gym
Once again I started my workouts at the gym. I signed up, donned my sweat pants, and jumped on the treadmill.
Through the window I saw a perfectly good sidewalk and realized I could actually be going somewhere while exercising instead of getting nowhere on a spinning track.
It made me think of George Jetson walking his dog Astro. If you don't know what I'm talking about, well, I'm an old fart, okay?
Right idea, wrong song
So to cut the boredom I plugged in my ear buds and fired up Pandora. First song up? Dylan singing “knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door”. Yeah, the Fates decided to throw the leukemia guy a little dark irony. Not exactly an inspiring way to start out my first day at the gym.
The sad thing is I found myself singing along.
Geez, why couldn't it have been Stayin' Alive by the BeeGees? (Okay, no Seventies jokes. It wasn't all disco. We had James Taylor, Cat Stevens, and Led Zeppelin too ya know.)
Anyway, getting back to the subject of exercise, I hate it. On my list of things to avoid it's in the number two spot, just below eating brussel sprouts.
But the combination of getting older and having leukemia pretty much forces me to do it. Exercise, that is. Thank god brussel sprouts aren't a cure for cancer. If they were, I'd be knock'n on heaven’s door just to avoid the damn things.
Preparing for the Big Climb
I also had to prepare for climbing 1,311 steps at the Seattle Big Climb to raise money for blood cancers. But on my first day at the gym I only managed 200 steps on the StairMaster.
I’ve never been great at math but I think that leaves 1,111 to go. Damn.
Hmmm. When I was 16 I could have done that with no problem. I’m only 67 now, you wouldn’t think that would make such a difference. Oh yeah, and then there’s the leukemia thing.
Sticking with a simple exercise routine
So, my routine, for now, is simple. I’ll do about 20 minutes on the treadmill then it’s to the StairMaster for as many steps as I can handle. I’m trying to add at least 100 extra steps each day.
I haven’t started weight lifting yet. I’m pretty much just strengthening my legs. That’s probably not the best plan. I might wind up with legs like Popeye and arms like Olive Oil.
I still don’t eat enough vegetables or get enough sleep, and I spend way too much time sitting on my arse watching Netflix. But for the next two months I’ll be sweating it out at the gym, my worn out body bouncing along in my worn out sweats and t-shirt, while drawing inspiration from the extremely healthy looking regulars around me.
Thank god for yoga pants.
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