My New Frenemy

A friend told me a quote found in front of a gym. “When the aliens get here the fatties will get eaten first.” This saying is not for thin skinned people. People eating their 2,000 calorie burger with their Diet Coke… “Who does this gym think they are?”

If you are like me then you are now approaching middle age(s) and everything is starting to fall into place. Some things faster than others and with the help of gravity. All the hoaky wisdom of all the old people who don’t know how things really are. You know what I’m talkin bout. Drink your water, eat your veggies, go play outside.

Now if you’re also like me, and many of you are not, then your “exercise program” consisted of drinking too much, smoking, staying up all night, and sunbathing without sunscreen to get that good base tan. Until now God and hairspray has kept everything where it’s supposed to be. Fast forward to 35. Gone is the drinking and smoking and sunbathing. I’m still not exercising because I can’t seem to schedule it into my hectic life. And 35 is the new 20 so I’m really not 35. Right?

Please come with me to the age of 39. Now the people dropping dead in the obituaries aren’t quite so much older. And it’s right before 40. Official oldness. Ask any young person. Getting an exercise routine is now more about staying alive than staying fit. All the studies say you have to exercise or you’ll get every disease and syndrome known to mankind.

Of course you have to pick an exercise that you like, or might come in handy later on. I’m choosing running/jogging that may closely resemble crawling/gasping. I’m picking this because one day I would like to live further north in the mountains and there will probably be bears. I can easily envision being outside and having some terrible accident where I get covered in A1 steak sauce and here comes a bear with a bib on. A bib with a picture of me instead of a lobster. So I need to be able to run. Kind of fast but just fast enough to outrun you, or whoever I’m with. You know that old joke.

At this time my running is not to train for a marathon. I have the weird opinion they look like cattle drives. I may change my mind when I want a huge crowd of people to see that I can run X number of miles. For now I’m going to run simply because I can’t do it. It’s a complicated goal. It’s not: I can run a MILE. It’s: I CAN run a mile. That’s the best way I can explain it.

Today is the first day that I will take Frenemy with me. I will run as far, and controlled, as I possibly can. You readers will be an inspiration because I don’t want to come back with a readout of .1 (or less). I will jog my little heart out. Jace will come along and scrape me off the road like road kill. And when I get back I can show you this:

The day turned out longer than I expected and I just took a trial run. The display says “0.21” but it really was 0.18 miles.* This is our starting point. This is what we’re working with. I told you I sucked at running.

My next “run” will be on Tuesday afternoon. Hopefully the display will say 0.2 and not have a flat line on the cardiac monitor.
　
*Jace’s cousin gave us a treadmill! For FREE!!! It even has a fan. A FAN.