I am inertia personified.
For those of you who can’t remember 10th grade chemistry class, I’ll save you the trouble of dashing over to Wikipedia. Inertia is “the resistance of any physical object to a change in its state of motion or rest,” or as I like to call it, “a body on the couch tends to remain on the couch.”
Which causes friction when your wife owns a Pilates studio and has a well-read blog with the word “fitness” in its title. We’re so different in our workout regimes that the New York Times took our picture and featured us in a piece on spouses where one exercises regularly and the other not so much (they said my most notable athletic achievement was being commissioner of my fantasy football league).
In actuality, I’m not all that sloth-like. I play in a fairly competitive volleyball league once a week for about two hours. I have stuttered and stopped with a couch-to-5k running program the past two summers. I used to coach my son’s soccer team. And I’ve been riding my bike to work most days, three miles each way. But I hate working out. Despise. Abhor.
Yes, I do currently pay a gym on a monthly basis for the privilege of carrying around their membership card on my keychain. And no, I have not stepped inside the facility since I signed up a few months back. I prefer my exercise come in a competitive atmosphere where working out is a side benefit of the game being played. I have yet to meet a treadmill that can provide such a visceral experience.
But I can’t pretend that I can get away with this attitude any longer. I’m 45 now, and starting next week, I begin my life as an entrepreneur working from home. This means no more six miles on a bike five times a week. And it also means I’ll have a more flexible schedule that will allow me to hit the gym in the middle of the day. And I might even look forward to hitting the gym so I can work off the stress of being responsible for my own paycheck.
So why should you be interested in my journey? Because for many people, I am You. I’m not trying to drop an extensive amount of weight. I’m not trying to radically change my diet and never eat a french fry again. I’m not trying to accomplish some remarkable athletic endeavor like a century bike ride or swimming to the moon.
I’m trying to get fit, improve my cardio levels, maybe lose a couple pounds in the process, but more importantly, help swap the locations of the pounds I do have (I can turn my pot belly into a pot chest — that is such a thing, yes?). I’m trying to see how I can add fitness while living the life I currently have, and exactly what that means to my health, my body, and my lifestyle. But yes, I plan to do all of this while being Lisa’s plaything. She gets to experiment on me (some) and I get to grumble while I’m doing what she tells me.
And all of this begins in one week at the start of November. As I’m sneaking half of my son’s Halloween candy. Hey, somebody’s gotta eat the ones with peanuts in them. Most people won’t be thinking about fitness until the holidays have passed and the brand new year and resolutions are staring them in the face. By then I’ll have had two months of figuring things out so you can do what I do that works and avoid the inevitable mistakes that will be made.
But mostly I’ll be doing this reluctantly. I like my couch and if I were in charge people would stay healthy through their daily consumption of sugar cereal. By chronicling my misadventures on this site, though, I’ll have to keep honest with myself and keep at it. Even when I don’t want to. And who knows? Maybe the hubby part will turn into hubba-hubba.