August 26, 2009

• It was those two big eyes that finally got to me. Staring through me, each time I walked past, looking right into my heart. My flabby, weakened heart. Never mind that it seemed a little harder to climb the steep hill from the garden lately. No matter that my pants were feeling too snug around the waist, that my backside had an extra jiggle and that a certain saggy, baggy element had settled into my skin. I could ignore and pretend that I didn’t see the subtle looks from my dear husband as he gave me a squeeze and pinched a little (or was it a lot?) more than an inch.

  But, oh, those eyes! Every time I walked by them, I couldn’t miss their green (“START”) and red (“STOP”) glow, their insistent and persistant beckoning. They pierced right through my nonchalance, my feigned disinterest, and they eventually broke down my resistance. Finally, I relented….it was time to get on The Thing.

  My husband recently decided he needed to add some more exercise to his already jam-packed, physically-demanding day. So, one evening when we went into town for supplies, while I grocery shopped he bought The Thing. But I had no use for it. Refused to even acknowledge its existence. He labored and sweated for several nights, assembling the complicated apparatus, while I stayed away, busily ignoring the commotion in the garage. Then one morning, when I went out to check the sunrise, there it was, in all its glory. Plugged in and humming, our new treadmill was alight with eager anticipation of my partaking of the fun it offered. Only I knew better.

  Treadmills are NOT really fun. They are work, and the reason I know this is because I’ve known a few in my time. Last year I even joined a fitness center in town and doggedly made the 32-mile round trip three or four times a week. I pushed the buttons until I learned how to make the treadmill do my bidding, and then I progressed to the weight machines. I did sit-ups on the bench. And I trimmed down (a little) and toned up (some) and felt like a million dollars…or at least a lot more than before I began. But in a few months life interfered, excuses reared their ugly heads, routines were broken, and finally I accepted the fact that going into town for fitness was not worth the effort. But I could do it on my own.

  Not! I’d walk, but if it rained too much, the creeks wouldn’t allow me to pass. I’d drag out a couple of weights, and the phone would ring and off I’d go, to do something that seemed much more important. When I actually had some spare time, I’d spend it upstairs, pushing the pedal of my sewing machine instead of peddling on a stationary bike. Finally I faced the ugly fact that I’m just not much of one to exercise. Which brings me up to a couple of weeks ago.

  The glowing “eyes” of our new treadmill haunted me every time I passed through the garage. I began to see them in my sleep, along with images of clogged arteries, fractured hips and increasing weight gain. It was a torment I could no longer bear, so I caved. Nine days ago I pulled on my sneakers and some cool, loose clothes and climbed aboard. When I pushed that green “Start” button, I felt motion underfoot and suddenly things began to feel right again. I walked, slowly at first and then with increasing speed and incline, until I felt my old rhythm coming back. I swung my arms, took deep breaths and let that old familiar sensation take over…the one where you know you’re doing something right and good for yourself.

  Why in the world am I so stubborn? Or shy? What is it about taking that first step, that first lift, that first bend? This morning, as I was alternating between two mintues of jogging and one minute of walking on my new-found friend (and enjoying the feeling of my heart pumping vigorously) I think I found my answer. It is the commitment….I’m commitment-shy when it comes to exercise.

  There, it’s out there! I’ve said it. I have proclaimed to all the e-world that I’m weak in this area, that I need help. So I’m enlisting all of you to give me the support I need to stay with the program. Right now, I feel like I’m committed to this for the rest of my life, so help me goodness. But I know there are weak times ahead, times of temptation, when the garage seems cold and dark and the warm house seems so cozy, or the computer calls me to check on my e-friends, or the yarn on my needles BEGS me to come knit. To sit down and be lazy.” Rest…you need it, you’ve been working hard,” they say. Will my resolve see me through? Will my commitment extend to more than just a few weeks?

  I sure hope so, because I know this is the right thing to do. And I’ve learned a few things about using the treadmill that I would gladly share with you would-be users:

  • You shouldn’t hold on to The Thing when you walk; you should walk normally, with a good arm swing to help you along. Holding on significantly lessens the impact of your workout.
  • You should incline The Thing a bit to offset the fact that the treadmill helps move you along to some degree. I read that a 2% incline on the treadmill is equal to walking on a level track. Anything above 2% adds to the workout.
  • It helps to focus on muscles as you’re walking along. For example, for those of us who are well past the childbearing years, one can reacquaint oneself with certain muscles that help hold the bladder in place and keep it from functioning when one does not WANT it to function. Remember those post-childbirth exercises? One can do them while walking. Call it multi-tasking, if you like. I call it necessary.
  • Music helps. I don’t have a tv in the garage, and I can’t read while walking, but I sure can listen. Up-tempo helps; I’ll save my smooth jazz for another time.
  • The experts all tell us to warm up and cool down, and there’s a reason they are experts. It really is important! I use a four-minute warm-up, to gradually bring my speed and routine up to a pace that is true exercise. And I use a four-minute cool-down at the end, which makes it better when I step off The Thing….no stumbling around, trying to find my land legs.
  • Drinking water is vital! Especially for me, because I do not perspire….I sweat! If that sounds unfeminine, I just tell myself that it’s better for me. Think of those pathetic, sad women who never have more than a misty dew on their upper lip….that can’t be healthy.
  • And that part I said about treadmills not being fun? Well, it may not actually be fun to get on one and work out, but it is fun to feel better, look better and have the peace of mind that comes with doing the right thing…taking care of yourself.

  So, now that I’ve written a treatise on Me and and My Treadmill, (yes, we’re pals, now), I’ll close with one last word of encouragement to all you non-exercisers out there. Go to Walmart. Or the supermarket. Sit and watch the people come and go. It doesn’t take long to figure out some rough percentages, and you know which percentile you want to be in.

  (Note: there are no pictures to go along with this post…for this, you can thank me!)

  • 6:30 pm
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