Binges, waistlines and spandex...

I think I usedta be an athlete… I played every sport there was possible.. Even ran cross country in lieu of playing football for a couple of years when the doc wouldn’t pass me for football due to an enlarged testi.. (if you’re just reading this blog for the first time.. You’re gonna have to really dig to find that one!)..

I lived in the gym in college… was a bonified gym rat… I majored in PE… taught physical education… coached every damn sport there was possible for twenty years with my son and stepson… Played softball until I was 45.. I guess, bottomline, I love the human body in motion…

Then fitty-something hit… Somehow the thinking twists from “I can’t wait” to “Do I gotta?”…. No, you ain’t gotta… but then for every action (or lack thereof) there’s an equal and opposite reaction…

Lady at work… she can drive to Sonic… order ALL the “good shit” and get back to her desk faster than that one little chicky texted supercalifragilisticexpealadocious… It’s kinda sad really… For it, she’s extremely overweight.. Has trouble with steps… and assuredly has cut years off her life…

Why I took that turn to relate that I don’t know… but the truth about me is: I’m now a binge exercise person… I’m back in mid-binge… and that translates to going to our community center where a variety of offerings are afforded..

Indoor/outdoor pools.. A sauna.. A Jacuzzi…. Free weights… weight machines… treadmills.. Elliptical machines.. Steppers… Bikes… a basketball court.. And even a wonderful theater..

Been goin’ before work… Ain’t pushed myself too much.. But..The hardest part I’ve found is simply getting out my front door… So far so good.. But remember, I said that same shit in January… 2007 Binge I…

What I love about the Community Center: Spandex.. Women bouncing.. Women hard bodies… the feel of success after finally making it 30 minutes on the elliptical… what I look like in the mirror if I keep this shit up for 90 days… the excitement of the eyes in the kids at the pool… looking at their moms (sorry, remember, all men are pigs)..

Finishing that last set of reps on the weight machines.. The hellyesIdon’twanttobeanywhereelseonEarth feel of the sauna.. Throwing water on it (to add an S to that long word and make it and Urban dictionary word): hellSyesIdon’twanttobeanywhereelseonEarth..

What I don’t like about the Community Center: I abhor the locker rooms. There’s a sign outsidea the front of the men’s room indicating “no female children over the age of five permitted”… I can’t believe grown men get naked in there in the first place.. And they do… and mosta the time it ain’t fucking pretty… and oft times there’s a 7 yr old boy, or a 12 yr old boy, or a 3 yr old boy there… and it’s like “THIS is normal?” I hate it. I always take my undies.. I always wear them to AND FROM the shower.. And I hate it if kids even see me in those. There’s nothing like bending over to tie one’s shoes only to be met by the brown eye of a 60 yr old man. Eww!

I don’t like the Schwarzenegger cocksuckers that look in the mirror, then down at themselves, then back in the mirror again. Envious? No. Slap me if I ever appear that vain.

All in all, it’s a pretty cool place… The good outweighs the bad… kinda like life… They say a good ole rounda sex is the equivalent of a 50 yard dash… since I ain’t been doing any sprinting of late, figured I oughta go back to the gym… It ain’t quite the same as a fitty yard dash… but reckon it’s a fairly productive alternative… Happy sprinting, love, Victurd.