100 days. I write with apologies to my friend Sanford - who has been working out faithfully since we graduated 44 years ago. Apologies to cousin Steve who has ridden his bike more miles than my '99 Grand Marquis has on it (He even conquered the Katy Trail.. the ENTIRE Katy Trail.) To my friend Terri - who has run more marathons than there are days in a month.
I recently was moved by a lady's thingy on youtube where she posted time lapse photos of her throughout 100 consecutive days of exercise. She dropped 28 lbs, got under her sub-300 lb goal, and happy to report continues to lose weight.
I am tired of looking at pictures of me, and having them resemble a Christmas tree sans ornaments. Many things, I'm not disciplined. Exercise being one of those. I go, I do, I quit shortly thereafter.
So, figured if I wrote about it, I'd have to stay on my own butt to continue on. So, writing. Saturday, January 11, yeah, I'll start then. Saturday comes. "It was a long week at work, I deserve a day off, I'll start tomorrow."
Sunday, Jan. 12. "I'll start today, but... but.. I'd better attack that huge pile of laundry first." Victor, you hate doing laundry. "I know, but it does need to get done." Ok.
I suppose along with exercising, I oughta eat more prudently. Need laundry soap. There.. right there in Dollar General - staring at me when I walked in: Little Debbie.. Cap'n Crunch.. Jimmy Dean.. Russell Stover.. Swiss Miss.. Duncan Hines.... mmmmmmmmmmm, yum. "VICTOR! CHEESE IT!... er, I mean get your laundry soap and get the hell outta there." Oh, ok.
Laundry done, it's getting kinda late. Victor - get your butt to the gym. Nope, it's unseasonably warm, I'm going to the track. The last time I started this, I knew I was doomed, as I searched (and found) the closest parking space to the gym. HA! NOT THIS TIME! (I took the 2nd closest spot).
"Walkers and joggers please use lanes 5, 6, 7 & 8." Like that's gonna happen. I wanna go 2 miles, not 2 miles and 342 feet. Lane 1. Two laps in, car pulls up. Crap. Ok, lane 2. Three minutes later, a female gazelle goes around me at a speed I don't think I've ever reached. Eh, it's ok - crap, I am 61. I turn to see if the other gazelle has taken off. Nope, she's old too, probably even older than me.
Half a lap later, the bitch (sorry) passes me. The old one. Eh, it's ok, I've got a blockage in my leg and it hurts like hell - track, you're lucky I'm even here. Finally lap 8 happens, I'm done, and no, I am not going to share how long it took.
To the gym, right after. Might as well lift some weights to develop some tone. "Victor, you need more than 100 days to develop tone." Ok, bite me, I'll go for tonette then. First, I'll walk over here and knockoff some push-ups and crunches. Remember Victor, you usedta do the mandated 100 push-ups in school like it was nuttin'. Uh huh, long time ago. I'm going to do ten to start... After 4th push up "ok, sets of 5 works." I did that, twice.. and I was done. You're more than welcome to laugh at me, I've earned it. Twenty crunches. YES, only 20. Gotta start somewhere.
To the scales. Christmas tree weighs in at 209, ouch. And no. NO time lapse photos here! (You're welcome)..
Two 'laps' around the weight machines - done. Reward myself with sauna, then Jacuzzi. In the sauna, I'm dying. Snotnose basta' maybe 21 walks in.. stands next to heater thing, jogs in place. Basta. 'Nuff sweat, to the Jacuzzi. Ahhhhh, yes, my favorite thing about exercise routine. Up to the jacuzzi walks gorgeous female with not very much material within her swimsuit. Ok, maybe Jacuzzi 2nd favorite thing.
Morning, day 2. Eh, not so bad. Elliptical - only leg weights after. Day three, elliptical, 30 minutes, I ain't gonna tell you how far I made it, at least I made it. Arm weight circuit after. Morning, day 4. My calves and I are not speaking to each other - in fact, they've requested twin beds. Day 5, son/DIL have no car - so, after 8rs work - we run to HyVee, WalMart and the Smoke shop. Eh, it's already 6:45pm, I'll just get in this left lane, pull into the Dish Pizza, have a beer and restart with day 1 tomorrow. "VICTOR!".. To the tune of Alvin the chipmunk.. Victor? Victor? VICTOR? OKAY damnit, I switched lanes, went to gym, worked out.
Yesterday was day 6. I have more pep in my step at work - legs actually better now - but my arms feel like they're ready to fall off. I go, I exercise. I sauna. I Jacuzzi (as does same chick with not very much material within her swimsuit.) I could get used to this. Mebbe.
My father, fittingly, labeled me a follower. I would do projects around home to earn money for going out with friends, phone would ring mid paint stroke - and I was off. Gone. Easily led. I hasten to put this on blog 'cause I ain't sure I'll make it. Gonna. I can handle embarrassment if I don't make it. Pride is hard to swallow - but it will go down.
Today is day 7, I will get through day 7. (I referee little turds [1st/2nd grade] basketball for four, COUNT EM, FOUR hours. ) If that ain't the equivalent to 30 minutes on the elliptical, 2 laps around the weight machine, sauna/Jacuzzi - bite me. I will miss the little material one though. All men are pigs, 100 out of 100 days. Or in this case, 7 out of 7.
Smoking (cough cough cough, gasp) MIGHT be addressed within this 100 day (hopefully) period. Two years ago I bought a vapor cig, never used it, lost it. A bit ago, I bought Nicorette gum, looked at the box the other day, "Expires Oct 2013." I have a new vapor cig in coat pocket. Never used it. Easily led. No discipline. Follower. It's(cough cough cough, gasp) me, who I am.
100 days? Stay tuned - to the outhouse, by Willie Makeit. Love, Victurd.
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