I read an article last night about how 80% of gym passes go unused and felt supremely confident in myself. I don't actually have a gym membership, having decided instead that I could work out outside instead for free and not have to be seen by people on a regular basis who were judging my progress. This week, I remember thinking one day while working out how happy I am with my progress this year. Back in February at my annual physical, the doctor asked if I had a weight loss goal; I told her that I have a waist loss goal instead.
Except for two weeks this year, I have stuck to my schedule of seven to eight workouts per week. In spring, when I didn't get as many classes as I hoped, I used Tuesday and Thursday nights religiously to racquetball and cycle after work since I wasn't teaching. Even during the hot months of summer, I kept up with my exercise regimen. The week I spent in Alaska and the week I spent doing local camping, I didn't meet the lofty benchmarks, but I have also watched what I eat and upgraded some of the junk for more fresh fruits and vegetables. Tomorrow's hike will be the seventh workout this week.
Consequently, I am down to a 33" waist. I can hike some of the trails I do with a friend without being as winded as he is, and I can haul tons of stuff up stairs at work without being out of breath. Sometimes I go out for a milkshake or eat a slice of pie, but because of this normal behavior eating and doing healthy things, my body is probably better able to handle the occasional indulgence. I feel better most days, look better than many of my contemporaries, and fit into a suit I last wore when I was 21. At least in this way, my workouts work out for me, and I like it. In my mid 30s, I really am in my prime.
One of the occasional hiking companions told me that I looked good even though I argue he looks better. He reminded me that we went out with one of his nephews who was skinny and admitted that being skinny doesn't make you fit. Another article I saw this week showed that the body building for showmanship creates muscle mass whose only goal is to look good. Men achieve by starving and dehydrating themselves the "attractive" crotch V, but these men can't do what I can despite their toned bodies. Real achievement comes from the guys who heft lumber or lay bricks, and they're muscular, but they're not considered "sexy" by those who go for the modern bodybuilder. I wish I could get rid of some more stubborn belly fat, but there are other perceptible benefits I can see, and I don't think it goes unnoticed. I may not be the most attractive male, but I can probably outrun or outlast them in any of the variegated activities for which I train.
My workouts are mostly strictly constructed, but I do an array of things. I hike, I lift weights, I bicycle, I run, I kayak, I do yard work, I scrub the toilet, and I play racquetball. Everything I decide to do is at least partly up to me, and so every part I do enhances a part of who I am. I am fit across an array of activities, and so I'll never look as skinny as some people, but I really wonder sometimes how fit marathon runners and cyclists really are when they dedicate every moment to a single-minded venue of personal fitness when there are eight categories.
Our world contains so many options and opportunities, and I really feel that it works out best only when we are well rounded. Even at a time when so many Americans are "well rounded" due to sloth and overindulgence that makes them corpulent and bulbous, there are myriad opportunities to go and do and see and experience so many things. I cry sometimes when I see that we have, without ever leaving earth, come to resemble the spaceship people depicted in Wall-E who "experience" in silico things that only round us out when done in vivo. Get out of your car, get out of your house, get out on the streets and see and do some of the things God made possible in this life. Even if they are only there to "please the eye and gladden the heart", He made those too, and sometimes I wonder if I'm the only person who notices the amazing sunset or lightning storm and sees the hand of the Master in those things.
So maybe my life isn't working out as I thought and hoped and planned. I am not convinced that many people experience all their plans and goals coming true. Since getting into Shakespeare the last five years, I am convinced more and more that most of what I see is a play, carefully worked out to make me think as a casual observer that far more works out in their life than is true. The trouble with that is that even if they manage to cut back on their waist, so much more goes to waste. My activities both as exercise as well as on weekends are part of the same mission- I have a waist loss goal AND a waste loss goal, because my life will end some day, and I choose to avail myself of opportunities to really live. Rather than sit around surrounded by people who lie about how they live, I am out there trying to really live. That's what this blog, and the life it chronicles, are all about- Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit. I don't always know what I'm pursuing or what I should pursue. For now, it's a better life, one where I don't feel at a loss because of my waist or my waste and where I made something even if it's just an experiment that tells me what I really am. After all, if you discover that, I think that's a huge victory, and a rare one besides.
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