Middle age and recent events in my life have made me take inventory of things I need to change about myself. Waking up in the morning and rolling out of bed with aches and pains is not an option anymore. Even though I'm not disappointed by what I see in the mirror, I know my 220 pounds could be 200 and my chest, back and shoulders could be broader. Screw arms. Arms will follow the other stuff.
Many a gay gentleman have told me they wouldn't change a thing about my appearance and my narcissistic nature appreciates that (I'm not gay, father of two, married to a woman etc). Even though I'm drop-dead gorgeous, I have decided that putting some effort into change could be fun and this week my new endeavor has turned into an addiction.
Going to the gym and seeing the same familiar faces everyday provides me with the motivation I need. I see the ladies from Sue's club, huffing and puffing on a treadmill, performing a healthy exorcism of their demons or last night's half cookie. Whatever their reasons for change, they are there and doing something about it. I will change too.
This week, for the first time in history, I have been to the gym five straight days and walk/ran 2-2.5 miles each day on the treadmill. I followed that with some iron pumping and sit-ups. Not much, but enough to notice a change in how I feel and the way my shorts fit.
I will be going back tomorrow and the day after. Can't stop now. Even though my goal is 200 pounds, maybe I can get to 190. Maybe I'll be fit enough to bang out 25 pull-ups or dunk a basketball again or run a 5k and compete. Or maybe I'll gain the stamina to chase my small boys around after a hard day's work. All realistic goals that can be attained. 40 be damned.
I am well on my way. I am the star of my own Biggest Loser show and come hell or high water, I'll get there.
1 comment:
awesome, Joe! It does get addicting, especially when you start seeing those results! Laura
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