My Life In Hell

Sooooo...I have to apologize. This Diner has been lax in his posting duties. The reasons for this can be blamed on a number of factors including general malaise, post March Madness depression but really can all be traced to two evil words.... “boot camp”. While I am sure that does not sound either evil or malevolent, many of you do not have the pleasure to know my level of physical fitness. I am a Becker which means I have very limited hand/eye coordination and prefer much more to “play” then to “compete”. This was fine up till about 30 when my rapid, hyper, caffeine fueled metabolism burnt off pounds. This allowed me to mock my beer drinking (swilling) friends who had developed the paunch early on. In retrospect this was a mistake.

I have had numerous bouts with exercise and fitness. I have proven myself to have, along with a lot of other admirable attributes to be a quitter. As an adult about the only “exercise” I sustained for a lengthy period was some time at the University Club playing squash in the morning. Even that had more to do with a hot steam and a breakfast then it did with staying in shape. I have, in no specific order, run, exercised on machines, tread-milled, biked, played tennis... blah, blah, blah. Everything other then aerobic and energetic sex has been tried and ultimately cast aside.

So it was with a lot of trepidation that I eyed boot camp. My wife had done it several years ago and along with dieting dropped a lot of weight. She decided to start up again in planning for our 25th anniversary and what I am still thinking to be a misguided goal of fitting into her wedding dress. Since I have been married for 25 years I knew my job was to be encouraging, but not too encouraging. I could be a cheerleader but if you go too much further then that there comes a point where she is questioning why HER weight loss is so important to you.... anyway... She has been getting up at 5:30 in the morning for a few months to go to boot camp. She knew that in the winter I hibernate but I made noises that when spring came I would “think about” joining her. This was a mistake. I believe in my Church they would refer to this as “giving the devil a foothold” in your life.

This left me with very few excuses when at the end of March boot camp “buddy day” came around. Buddy day is a thinly veiled recruitment technique for boot camp where you bring a friend or relative. So I got up on 5:30 with her (I might or might not have had a cocktail the night before) and headed for Kirkwood Park where a large boot camp group (cult) is shepherded over by a 105 pound 25 year old names ma-am. She is a nazi.

For those of you who have not been to a boot camp it starts with walking around the gym, followed by jogging and then you move to your position (where you have staked out a place with your mat) and you stretch...arms, legs and calfs for 15 minutes and then you start to exercise. Well, I had not exercised in a long time and when we were jogging in place I was not “warming up” but I was working out, kicking my knees up high. As we went into each exercised i was pushing from the start and not pacing myself at all and 15 minutes into it, not understanding my mistakes, i was light headed and thought I was going to puke. I took a brief break in the bathroom and came back for more and though, quite literally i was going to die.

As my wife drove me home as I was sweating and shivering, she inquired as to whether or not she should take me to the hospital but I mumbled “home” and that is where she took me. Upon arrival i went straight to bed where I lay for 20 minutes waiting for some equilibrium to return. It did and with it came the conviction that if i was in this bad a shape, it might be time to really do do something about my bad shape. So I told my wife i would commit for the next six week session. In retrospect this was also a mistake.

So for the last few weeks, as the Diner review has been on hiatus, I have been traveling to Kirkwood each morning with my wife and going through a series of exercises. I realized immediately my prior mistake and began pacing myself (loafing) during warms ups and taking full advantage of stretching out (I have never and probably never will be able to touch my toes) and generally pushing myself in each activity until I had to quit. My wife’s boot camp name is “Walker” which led to me being named “Texas Ranger”. After watching me for this period the regulars are in the process of renaming me “Softcore”. Nice.
The exercise is hard but I know it is good. We run on Mondays, work on abs on Tuesdays (Tummy Tuesdays), arms and upper body on Wednesdays and whatever she wants on Thursdays. When the weather is nice we go out on the parking lot. So half way through the session what have I learned:

1. Exercise makes me want to and gives me an excuse to eat like a horse. I have become like a Hobbit having 5 or six meals a day.

2. Losing an hour at work in the morning is not good for my work productivity (which is questionable anyway).
3. I have not lost any weight

4. Over all I do not feel any better (which reminds me of the time I stopped drinking for six months) other then a smug feeling of being superior because I am exercising.

5. When I get home from work I am really tired (which is why the Diner Review has been on hiatus.

I am going to follow through on my commitment to my wife regarding boot camp (having failed so spectacularly in so many other commitments to her) but I cannot see doing this long term. It is too hard to have to get out of bed at 5:20 four days a week and the work thing is a problem. I will intend to go back to boot camp after taking a session off but being a quitter, who knows. I am thinking yoga should be next foray into fitness. Sooner or later someone (perhaps a doctor) is going to force to start eating more like a human being and less like a goat. That will be a dark day indeed my friends.