Torture by any other name is still TORTURE! In bygone years we called such things ‘racks’ and ‘coffins’, today they are known as home exercise equipment. My theory is that they were design with these Inquisition torture jigs in mind.
Of course this is in jest, the point here is that what seemed like a grand idea took on fresh dimensions of reassessment once pressed into use. I’ve worked out twice so far and have discovered a new definition to personally inflicted pain. Oddly, the “Just 20 minutes a day” sales pitch will work magnificently if you in fact do the 20 minutes each day.
Last year, June I believe, I decided to hit the gym for the first time in many years. I even paid for a personal trainer two times per week to make sure I was getting the most from my efforts. My head has gone to that space where I envisioned my newly reshaped body with bulging muscles and six pack abs on display without effort. I even imagined some day running into a former wife (left me for a dude 13 years younger than me, ouch!) or a former girlfriend (a society babe) I was involved with, and somehow maneuvering my way into showing off the new, improved hot body! Thankfully that dream is far behind me now and a more rational thought process prevails.
By September of last year my body had started to show serious signs of achieving the results I was working towards, then I went on my October road trip to Phoenix. I didn’t purchase additional time with the trainer since I wasn’t sure exactly when I’d be back. While gone I was informed my contract was ending and it was apparent the resources I had were better spent on bills. So, from the end of October to last week I only visited the gym about three times. So much for my resolve to get in shape.
It was time to come up with a workable solution, hence, the home gym purchase. Reality has replaced vanity, economy has replaced health club status.
Slowly, I’m making progress….to what exactly I don’t really know. I’ve settled into a wonderful romantic relationship, my children are largely doing well, my ex-wives are friendly, my job is stable, my cars all run well, and my body is sore again from my recommitment to stay in shape, the ocean of change is finally settling down to a smooth cruise.
Now, if I could just find someone to play chess with!
Thanks for reading this far. Pass the Tylenol please.