Friday, January 15, 2010

Well Alrighty Then!

I still read your blog dad :( - Son

Was sorry to read you were only going to write Exercise in Futility only once a week, cuz that is how I kept up with you. - Mom

I have truly enjoyed your blog and really “miss” the daily entries, but I certainly understand! - JRock

So you're stopping the blog? - noNeed in the cafeteria line


I think it was my son's comment in facebook that tipped the scales. I'm also feeling a certain amount of jonesing while not writing - I'll pick up the pace of entries. I may even go so far as widening the scope of this blog a bit, I think it's time to relate how all this sturm und drang flows outside the gym. Perhaps I'll even go with the literal definition of sturm und drang, "works containing rousing action and high emotionalism that often deal with the individual's revolt against society."

I've always wanted to revolt against society but shaving my head's out and tattoos and piercings hurt, what to do... it'll come to me. Maybe goth? I'll have to check with the ladies on how to best keep my mascara and black lipstick from running all over my face during some HEAT class. I'll also have to work on my resigned stoicism, a lot, I whine, cry and complain during most workouts and that's not goth... is it? I have a mental image of becoming some sort of Wednesday Addams in the gym, resigned to my fate, accepting the latest Bubbles' indignity... dying... slowly... in great pain while looking nonchalant about it.

The latest Bubbles indignity is The Rope Ladder. Giggling with anticipation, she lays that out on the gym floor and my heart just sinks. Bubbles then performs some Charleston, two-step Foxtrot, Watusi, thingy and then stares at me expectantly with this, "Come ON Bill! What's the hold up here?!" expression on her face. I start out OK on the first rung, by the second I've pretty much forgotten the move and by the third rung I'm flailing about like a spastic Smokey the Bear stomping out a fire while on mescaline.

Good times, good times.

I seriously need to work on my balance and coordination which brings me to the Wii Fit Plus. I got two for Christmas which was sort of depressing given all the work I've done over the last year but I tried not to think about that too much and my sister was kind enough to return hers so that I could get other nifty gifts! My biggest issue (currently) with the Wii Fit Plus is actually using it. I have to work it into the Tao of Bill in some manner. It has these nice yoga exercises that I think would actually help with my balance and flexibility if I'd only use the silly thing.

You use the Wii Balance Board™ accessory to measure your center of balance, Body Mass Index (BMI), and body control. Based on these results, you can also determine (meaning you don't have a choice, it will be determined) your Wii Fit Age. My Wii Fit Age is 48, my sister's is 68 (she's seven years younger than I am) and grandma she took the news pretty hard. In all fairness this might have been because we (meaning me) might have mislead her on one of the tests. It was pretty funny, well, from my point of view anyway since my sister is some sort of gym fiend and is in far better shape than I am.

I'm not a fan of the whole BMI thing, I think it was invented by Kate Moss, my BMI informs me that I should weigh 162 pounds (just forty more pounds to go!) for my 'ideal' weight. Then the Wii helpfully plumps up my Mii avatar based on my current weight (202lbs) - nice! ::rolls eyes:: I think the only way I can achieve my 'ideal' BMI is to do what Kate did, eat a leaf of lettuce once a week and hit cocaine pretty hard for the additional cardio workout. Anyone up for funding that project? Me either.

I'll update on the Wii Fit Plus when I start incorporating it into my schedule. I hope it's useful.

While hanging out at my parents I picked up a book my dad said I could read called,
Open: An Autobiography. It's about Andre Agassi and it's a great read. I haven't finished it yet but the thing that caught my eye (so far) is his constant insistence that he hates tennis. That's hard to reconcile with someone who won eight Grand Slam titles, but what ultimately comes across is a human being. Check it out.

I have another book that's on the pile called, Bike for Life: How to Ride to 100 which I've skimmed. I'll have more to say on it later. In fact I currently have quite a pile of books I'm working through.

I've been having more fun at the gym since it's filling up with the regulars and the resolutionPeople. I look at the resolutionPeople and wonder how many will make it. In a way we're all resolutionPeople at the gym, gone at anytime but some disappear faster than others.

Recently awesomeGirl was weighing in for the Holiday Holdout thing the gym was running. This was some 'game' the trainers were playing trying to keep everyone from putting on weight and committing some Jonestown mass suicide during the holidays. She has total focus on the slider, willing it to go further down. There were about five people in the trainer's office waiting their turn to do this official weigh in, along with Bubbles jotting weights down on some clipboard. Muttering conversations, activity, distractions were going on. Enough cover for me to creep in and lay a heavy foot on the scale without awesomeGirl noticing. Her brow furrows while panic etches into her normally happy face. She starts to turn to Bubbles asking, "What's going..." when she notices the one dude sitting on the trainers desk smirking at me. She wheels, notices my foot on her scale, yells, "Why you...!!!" and literally shoves me out into the hallway. I got her pretty good.

That was fun.

I hadn't seen IronMan in what seemed like forever. Every morning I'd say a prayer that he wasn't going through what I went through a few months ago at work and hoping he'd be back in the gym soon. I walked in one morning and he was sitting on a BOSU ball holding a ten pound medicine ball getting ready to do a sit up/get up. I silently approach him from behind at an angle where he couldn't see me in the mirror, bend over at the waist at a right angle and wait. IronMan lays way back until my grinning visage comes into view. NOT something one wants to see at six in the morning! His girly scream was most satisfying.

That was fun too.

intoIt sends me a few emails demanding that UNC Head Basketball Coach Roy Williams be fired. This was after the latest Carolina loss to Clemson. He's, of course, kidding but I wonder in the back of my mind if there might not be overly exuberant fans that might be calling for his scalp. This is obviously a building year for my Tarheels. He then sends me a link to Bike Snob NYC - this guy writes rings around me so I'm a tad reticent to point it out to you but there it is.

Friday morning and I'm suffering on the upright bike. I'm in a total interval coma, emitting unattractive wheezing and just trying to get through this thing. I haven't fully committed to Bubbles latest assault on my dignity but I will. I'm easing into it. I use to be able to pull an all nighter no problem, ya know? Now when I'm required to do something like that it takes days to recover; this is a similar thing, trying to get my rhythm back after vacation.

As I'm gasping, sweating, dying in one minute increments I'm dimly aware of those around me, goodMood humping the StairClimber, awesomeGirl hammering the recumbent next to me, AT Everest wandering about in some post elliptical daze, and IronMan on the treadmill. All of us seem to be in the mood, but I'm bleary, not concerned about other's pain today, at least at the moment. I'm pondering this weird billing battle with Apple's MobileMe and I want, no I need, to hammer my frustration out on the pedals. I plan to reengage their weird customer service structure again later today.

"I'd like to talk with someone at customer support, please."

"You ARE talking with someone at customer support."

"Noooo, I'm 'chatting' with someone at customer support through an IM client, I'd like to speak with someone."

"I can't give you that information."

WHATEVER!

So I'm sincerely HAMMERING the pedals during the work interval, not quite brave enough to take it to Bubbles' next level of a minute thirty work, a minute thirty rest which is starting to feel like unfinished business but the current one minute work, two minutes rest is doing the job.

I come off the bike, stumble about, clean the bike, notice goodMood and awesomeGirl are still on their respective machines and IronMan is killing his ABS. I decide to walk on the treadmill for ten more minutes of cool down, while on it I'm razzing IronMan about his upcoming business trip to FLA telling him he'd better do more cardio and pay that calorie intake forward.

I'm getting a grumpy look back at that. He then grabs this medium sized stability ball (yes Virginia, they come in sizes, who knew?), puts his chest on it, arm walks out into a plank, does a full pushup and then arm walks back. He does this at least ten times fast, shutting me down into a quiet, respectful awe.

He sits on his ankles with this bored expression probably deciding if he should have a stroke or not. Then he comes over to the treadmill and runs on it for a bit.

I hop off my treadmill in shame.

I come back and review my Garmin data noting that over the course of the year I have never gotten my HR above 168bpms. I've gotten it to 168bpms at least three times. I'm starting to wonder if that's my maxHR and why I'm so fixated on it.

Be seeing you :-)

No comments:

Post a Comment