All In for Fitness

So really since I've been out of law school I've been physically lazy. Like comically so. There were a few periods during the early years of my law firm where Paul, who is NOT lazy, convinced me to work out with a trainer, and I did. Gil became a friend, and for a time he worked out Dr. Barry and me. But Barry, one of the best people I know, shares my lazy gene, and eventually we'd slouch away from physical exercise and revert to our sloth-like states.

I tried the trainer route several years ago at Pinecrest gym, with Susan. It got me moving, but Susan and I are both great raconteurs, and I'd steer our meetings to talk as much as action.  I'm really, really being good at lazy.

When I decided I had to move, I'd walk, and recently was going 2.2 miles at a clip, around my 'hood. I have despised running since high school, when I was on the baseball team and forced to run, and I never got "past the wall."  No, I figured, walking was enough for this sedentary almost 57 year old.

My friend Kenny is a model. He and I met in junior high. We look alike -- often mistaken for brothers over the years. Kenny is also one of my smartest friends. We weighed the same in high school and through college, and probably grad school as well, but then he joined the Navy while I joined the tailgater's club, and Kenny has kept his weight the same.

He's not an athlete, but just makes sure he moves a lot. He reads his radiology studies while standing up. He watches TV on a bike or treadmill. And he goes to a gym called Sensory Fitness. Finally, after resisting, I agreed to meet him there yesterday.

It was a further revelation about what a fat, out of shape pig I am. The owner, a nice Cuban guy who grew up in Miami and was a professional artist before finding his passion in fitness, put me on a futuristic machine that had me do three squats, and then analyzed my balance and musculature, like one of those things you see on "Nova."  Turns out I lean to my left -- a lot. And I have the weak back muscles of someone who slumps over his computer all day, instead of moving and stretching.

Then came the class -- which consisted of Kenny, me, and 4 young women. It lasted an hour -- alternated between weights and jumping jacks. I was the manatee among dolphins, but that was ok -- I moved more in that hour than I have in years. I got a rush. It was terrific.

I signed up for a month's worth of unlimited classes, and am going back tonight for a stretch class. I dig the place -- in the warehouse district near the Falls.  The clients aren't huge steroid dudes like at some gyms. They seem like normal folks wanting to avoid becoming fat slugs who sigh and moan every time they have to bend over to pick up something that has fallen.  That was happening to me.

The Ds are thrilled. They both work out a lot, too. D1 explained that she was the worst in her fitness classes until she wasn't. D2 got sore all the time until she didn't.

In college, and when I married Wifey, I weighed about 175. My weight yesterday was a whopping 264. I'd have guessed maybe 250. It really went farther than I thought.

I don't really have a weight goal in mind, but years ago I got "down" to 200, and that seemed to suit me. I was energetic and looked fly in clothes. I actually bought lots of clothes then -- including some suits I'd like to be able to wear again.

The truth is, I'm not vain. I have no problem cruising around looking, as D1 noted, like I was just realeased from the homeless shelter. But I've noticed that being fat, I avoid stuff -- like dressing up. Clothes feeling tight, even "fat clothes," puts a damper on stuff, and I wasn't ready for stretch pants.

I plan to hit sensory 2-3 times per week, plus keep up my walking. Kenny explained about interval training -- told me to do a few sprints during my walks -- it has major benefit, according to research. I think the strange rescue dog might be ready to accompany me. Poor Bo, the special needs Spaniel, can't run. Neither can Wifey, on account of fear of hurting her back. She can walk Bo.

So we'll see -- next year, at this time, I hope to be a much healthier, lighter, version of an aging dude. Of course, I could get hit by the proverbial truck before then, but maybe after the gym, I'll have a better chance of jumping out of the way.