I used to be in shape. No, really. When I graduated from high school I weighed 155 lbs. I’m not quite “twice” the man I used to be, but that first digit is no longer a one. I played soccer and ran when I was in high school, played intramural sports and tennis in college. Then I went to work.
My first job out of college had me sitting for a six hour shift. I then delivered bread for four months, which was physically active, before I moved on to working in a lab – somewhere between active and sedentary. For the last fifteen or so years I’ve worked at jobs that have my fat butt parked in a chair for eight hours a day.
At least my non-working hours are filled with activity; blogging, playing WoW, watching others play sports, that kind of thing. Yeah. My biggest physical activity is trips to Walmart, which tries to help by putting the cat food as far away from the milk as possible so that I do have to walk the entire store on most runs. Naturally, I reward my hunter-gatherer expeditions with a donut.
One thing about getting older is that I’ve become much more aware of my body. Not from a vanity perspective, I’ve never been someone who gives much thought to what anyone else thinks about my looks. If anything, caring about other people’s opinion has diminished with each year. What has increased is my awareness of the aches and pains of aging, the reduced energy and increased recovery time when I do something physical. My forays into the wilds of Wally World leave me exhausted at times. I realize that I have to do something.
I joined the gym. Planet Fitness, to be exact. There is the thought among “serious” fitness folks that PF isn’t a “real” gym. My impression is that they think that if you’re not grunting and hoping that people notice your great bicep dimple you’re not serious about your exercise. I don’t care. I believe it can work for me. I don’t want to compete in a body building competition, I want to be able to work in the yard without needing three days to recover. I don’t want to run the Boston Marathon, I want to run to the car when it’s raining and not feel the need for oxygen.
I will post my progress here from time to time. My goal is to be in better shape at sixty-three than I was at sixty. Trust me, the bar’s not that high.