Impatiently Training

In January, I resolved to go to the gym five days a week.  No, it wasn’t a New Year’s resolution.  I’d like to think I’m too unconventional for that sort of thing, thank you (besides, I didn't begin on January 1st).  At the start, I weighed 197 pounds.  As the days went by, I was excited to see the pounds fly off.  I reduced my weight almost daily.  Then my body caught on to the game.  I hit a plateau at 192 pounds.  Frustrated, I changed my workout to see if I could force the weight loss to begin again.  And it worked.  My weight dropped to 187 last week.  And then I weighed this morning.  192.  Really?!  C’mon!!

I’m trying to convince myself that muscle weighs more than fat.  I’m trying to concentrate on the benefits of all the exercise that I’m getting.  But, I want results.  Of course, maybe I shouldn’t have eaten that entire bag of popcorn this past Saturday.  I could have done without those three spoonfuls of crunchy peanut butter on Sunday.  The pizza Saturday night didn’t help.  The non-light Sunday evening beer didn’t either.  I’m not a monk, body.  Cut me some slack!

When on the treadmill at the gym, I watch the activity on the floor.  I am a people-watching addict.  One of the personal trainers at the gym also works out there.  I stare with amazement when he is on the treadmill.  As I plod along at my 2.5 mile per hour pace, he is sprinting at 7.5 miles per hour and punching wildly at the air in front of him.  He tires me just watching him.

There are some gym pluses:  I see other people giving their all and making slow simple progress like I am, the attractive young women who work the front desk all know me by name since I’ve been going so frequently, I see the buffed and built men there who give me additional motivation to reach my goal.

Swimsuit season is coming and I still have the body shape of the Grinch.  But one thought is running through my head:  at least I have four months until my trip to Cozumel. 

Avoiding Reality

I never was interested. Even to this day, I’m blissfully unaware. CNN? No thanks. CNBC? Blah. Fox News? You must be joking.

As a child, I spent summer days at my grandparents. One of my duties was to retrieve the paper from the drive on Thursdays. The paper only came on Thursdays and Saturdays. Hey, it was a small town – not much to report. At lunch-time, my grandfather would get the paper first. My grandmother would read it next, and then my sister who is only a couple of years older than me would read it cover to cover. Me? I might read Peanuts (the only cartoon in the Thursday edition) or check what was playing at the local movie-house (Yes, movie. This was the days before mass-cinemas). I might quickly check out the black-and-white photos to see if any of my friends were lucky enough to capture the town spotlight. Most Thursdays, I did not bother at all. Building forts with hay bales in the barn loft was much more fun.

As an adult, I moved to Orlando for a year or so. My sister would write me (this was the days before e-mails or texts). In her letters, she would send clippings from the hometown newspaper. I would laugh a bit. She was trying to keep me abreast on happenings back home. I just wanted the news she sent of family and friends, not the current events.

I once shared an apartment with a man who was fascinated with news stories. CNN played constantly in the living room. I kept my headphones on most of the time, read in my bedroom, or took the dog for extended walks. I discovered lots of cool music, caught up on some classic lit, and lost quite a bit of weight. Turned out that the news really was good for me.

A few years ago, a friend shared with me a story that certified what I had known since my childhood. People who do not keep up with the news live longer, happier lives. Call me unaware. At least you can call me that for many years to come.

(Writer's note:  I realize that I should have referred to MSNBC instead of CNBC - that should illustrate how out of it I am.  Also, I do read the Onion, but I think that hardly qualifies as "news.")