The View From My Apartment 4
So, what is it going to be this week? What finely honed view point is that master of the blog going to come up with? Well. Im glad I have your attention. It is going to be about some that has come to take over the American consciousness. And deservedly so.
So this blog will cover: Weight Loss…or, There Aint No Hot Chicks at the Gym.
I admit it. Im trying to lose some weight.
What is this world coming to?
And why have I jumped on the band wagon?
I could argue that I jumped on the band wagon because my wife signed us up for a gym membership that locked us in for two years, so I might as well go. It was quite a surprise to receive that phone call from my wifeI was expecting one in regards of prices of membership, not being signed up for one. In fact, I was hoping it was only going to be about prices, because, I admit it: I was going to widdle my out of joining a gym. I was going to back away from any promise I had made to my wife in terms of joining a gym, getting healthier, and hopefully, compromising on what I like to eat.
But, alas. The sentence was brought down. Two years, hard time, to be served at Ballys.
That, however, isnt the reason I go to the gym, honestly.
Now. Im not a fat man. Im not. Ive seen fat people…Ive tried to share a seat on the subway with a fat person. Notice: tried. However, I do have a little bit of a tummy. Its like the fat on a duck, it provides for my long flights down south in the fall…if I were to do one. Its a little pudge, thats all. Its those Little Debbie Zebra Cakes collecting in one location. Its all those years of my youth not exercising, not doing much physical, besides performing on the stage. And now that I dont perform regularly…well…you can see where Im heading with this…
So. I got a few pounds I want to shed. Or more specifically, I want to get rid of some fat and replace it…either with muscle or…nothing. I want to get rid of my pudge. Shed it. Make it go away.
But, its not just about the pudge. Theres more to it. I go to the gym because I realize Im getting older. I have realized my own mortality. It could be the thinning hair. But, its actually the stiffness and the inflexibility. Its the hangovers. Its all those things that I didnt feel when I was 22 years old.
And as I have realized my own mortality, I have really recognized the mortality of those around me.
My mother over the past year has practically been rebuilt from the ground up. Over the past year she has had: surgery on a foot, minor surgery on both hands, breast cancer, and, continues to have, diabetes. And soon, in a few weeks, surgery on her spinal cord to help correct to problems in one of her discs.
This however, has barely slowed her down. My mother is a very independent woman. Aggressively so sometimes. She likes to be able to do what she wants. When I was in graduate school, every spring she would drive down to Austin from Illinois to see me, and then over to Colorado to go skiing. And then home. By herself. She came out to see my wife and me after we moved into our apartment in New York Citywhen she needed a walker to help her walk. Its quite impressive if not a little crazy.
Recognition of mortality doesnt mean a fear of death, a fear so gripping that you dont leave your home because that bus, oh, that city bus is going to hit you…No. Realizing your mortal makes you realize how precious time on Earth really is. You only get…85 years? Maybe more, maybe less. When I was a teenager, 85 years seemed like a long, long time. But as I have grown up, and time has slid by…85 is a drop in the bucket. Its a blink of the eye. True, so much can happen in 85 years…but…still, theres still a lot more that COULD happen.
Do I wish that I had taken more of an interest in my health ten years ago? Sure. But, then I wish a lot of things about ten years ago. Past is past. That doesnt matter. What matters is what I can do in the present that paves the way towards the future. And so, if I can get into the gym a few days a week, get into the habit of eating a little better, working out a little longer, maybe Ill feel really good when Im 80 years old.
So. Time is precious. Its not to be wasted. Life is for living. And quite frankly, I want to live a long time and I want to feel good that whole time.
Im losing my hair, I dont see very well, Ive lost a tooth (and through technology, I will be rebuilt), I have knee problems some times. Im not as young as I once was. But you know what? I still feel pretty good.
So. I go to the gym. I get over feeling silly in the locker room, feeling silly on the machine. I hunker down and I read a magazine and I sweat. Just like everyone else in the gym.
Oh. My wife gave me another reason for me to go to the gym. She said, You could look at the hot chicks. Well. Guess what….There aint no hot chicks at the gym. There are people like me…people who realize its time to get on the treadmill and get that pudge off the belly. People who want to feel good about themselves. People who want to feel their heart pound in their chests. People who like to live.
And remember…you ONLY have 85 years…so much to do…so much to do…!