I'm a Gerbil

Today begins a huge, life-altering experiment in my household.

I’m turning off the television for one week.

I’ve decided to do this for several reasons, the main one being that my lifestyle has gotten pretty boring lately. My typical day goes like this:

Wake up to CNN.

Look at the weather report on the internet, shower, take a vitamin, go to work.

Eat a salad combo for lunch.

Neglect going to the gym after work.

Neglect going to the ice rink after work.

Go home, crawl under the comforter like a gerbil and watch TV for several hours.

Go to sleep with CNN on.

On Thursday nights, I go to choir rehearsal which has been pretty much the only variant. Let’s face it: When taking a vitamin is the highlight of one’s day, it’s time to re-evaluate your weekly itinerary.

When you think about it, I’m a pretty lucky guy and have done pretty well at keeping my life simple. I have no kids who have kiddy-activities that would impinge on my time. No spouse or pri-mate to concern myself with. No second job. So, just think of all the productive things I could do, even in my own apartment, instead of watching TV.

I could:

Make some more homemade laundry detergent. I love doing that.

Make healthy things to eat rather than shoving a Tombstone pizza in the oven.

Go run on the treadmill in the new gym facility in my building.

Download some really cool music to listen to while running on the treadmill.

Practice on the piano. I’ve often lamented the fact that I never became as good of a pianist as I could have been. Well, duh! Not when I’m watching four episodes of Judge Judy or stupid documentaries every day!
Let’s compare the intrinsic value of the following two endeavors:
1) Watching documentaries about Bigfoot
2) Learning Beethoven’s "Waldstein" Sonata.

Write that Great American Novel. I have a wonderful idea for a comedy about a middle-aged guy who learns the Dvorak keyboard and falls in love with his high school typing teacher. The title is “Qwerty” A Heartwarming Story of Love, Self-Discovery, and Typing. (A Basset hound will be in there somewhere.) Of course, it will be a best-seller and will also be made into a huge Broadway musical. Doesn’t that sound like the name of a Broadway musical?
Qwerty!
Fame, riches, and awards, both Pulitzer and Tony, await.

And outside of my apartment, even more exciting things are there.

I’ve never been to Chicago’s Lincoln Park Zoo and I love zoos. I’ve lived here almost ten years and don’t even know where it is. Probably in the Lincoln Park neighborhood is my guess.

Get my butt on the ice rink before winter is gone. I’ve only been once this season.

Go to one of Chicago’s museums – like the one with the artwork in it. Never been there.

Actually going to the gym. I belong to this very nice gym with a membership very nicely subsidized by my employer – and I don’t go. Working out hurts and I make it a point to avoid pain. Why can’t I find a means of exercise that I enjoy? I’m sure the gym has something I don't find revolting, but I won’t know that if I’m gerbilized in my apartment every evening.

I’ll keep you posted on how my non-gerbil endeavors are coming along.

Wish me luck.

The Gym. "I'm Back".

Okay. I did it.

I joined the gym.

Again.

It’s a Crunch Fitness center and it’s located in the lobby of my apartment building. I won’t have to actually GO anywhere to work out. I won’t have to get in the car and drive. I won’t have to bring gym clothes with me to work. I won’t have to go out in the cold.

I’ll only have to take the elevator down 49 floors and walk across a climate-controlled lobby. The convenience factor for this place is off the charts.
I shouldn’t have any excuses.

But I really need to join the gym. More than that, I need to actually GO to the gym and actually work up a sweat. Here I am:
Age: 48
Height: 6’ 2½”
Weight: 220 lbs.

This boy needs to do a lot of sweating.

The Crunch employee who signed me up was this very enthusiastic young thing named Crystal who spoke wayyy to fast for me to understand. I told her I was originally from Texas and my little Southern ears just couldn’t keep up with what she was saying; she was going to have to bring it down a notch. Ha-ha-ha. She tried, but eventually failed.

Crystal gleefully pointed out the new Stair-Masters they had. I thought to myself how ridiculous it was to be paying money every month to use a Stair-Master when I live on the 49th floor! I’ll bet most of those folks frantically bobbing on the Stair-Masters live in my 60-story apartment building and take an elevator and pay to use a Stair-Master.
Typical life in the U.S. really.

Apparently, all new members get a free session with a trainer. The last thing I wanted was to have some muscled-up dude named "Mace" watch me struggle with a 4 oz. barbell. That’s what happened every day in gym class and my life’s goal is to avoid anything remotely associated with gym class, thank-you-very-much.
“But it comes free with your membership!” chirped Crystal.

I knew that the “free” session with a trainer was just a ploy to have Mace sell private sessions. Besides, paying for my notion of a "private session" is a misdemeanor in Illinois.

I tried my best to tell Crystal that I really just wanted to be left alone at the gym.
No, I don’t want to do kick-boxing.
No, I don’t want to join the psycho-aerobics classes.
No, I definitely don't want to play adult dodgeball. Good god!

However, they do have this new type of aerobics call “Kangarooing” where you hop around on these springy-boingy shoes. That might be fun. Except I've learned the hard way that really tall people have a really high center of gravity. Springy-boingy activities aren't very conducive to an injury-free existence. It might be prudent to stay away from "Kangarooing."

I wish the music wasn’t so loud in that place! It made me nervous. Decades ago, it was disco music they played. Now, it’s all hip-hop, which as you know, I don’t consider music anyway. Because of the loud music and Crystal’s lightening fast speech cadence, I didn’t get most of what she was saying. I hope the loud hip-hop music won’t interfere with the Enya and Bach that I’ll be listening to on my iPod.
God, that’s sad.

Finally, after all the joining-up was completed, Crystal said, “So, do you want to work out now?”

I thought, “Are you kidding me?? It’s Sunday and I need a nap!”

Not a good sign.

Now, if I could only find some shorts that don't make me look like a total dork. . .

The Gym

I've been meaning to go to the gym for the past twenty-five years.

Oh, I've joined. Lots of times. I just never actually go there on a regular basis.

The first gym I joined was in downtown Austin next to the bank where I worked. I figured I'd go there since it would be so convenient. I did actually go there about a dozen times. Mary Lou Retton worked out at the same facility which was really humiliating. She was like a hummingbird on crystal meth, madly pumping on a set of weights then buzzing to the next and the next.

Meanwhile, I'd be staring at the leg press, trying to figure out how to work the damn thing.

I've probably spent more energy in getting out of a gym membership than I did actually using one.

I don't like working out, mainly for one reason: It hurts!!

I know, I know. No-pain-no-gain and all that.
But my philisophy is, "No pain? - - - - hey! No pain!"

But I'm at the age now where I really need to work out. Not just because I'll look better, but it's now a health issue. I now have a nice job, a nice place to live, wonderful friends, a blue Cuisinart, and I want to be around to enjoy these things for as long as I can.

Wouldn't you know it? I finally get my head together and my ass falls apart!

There's a Crunch Fitness actually located in the lobby of my apartment building. I wouldn't even have to go outside to go there. And we, as residents, get a half-price membership. (They now offer dodgeball for adults which sends shivers of horror down my spine. I don't think I'll be doing that). I could even go there at 9:00 PM each night when no one else is around to actually see me stare at the machines, wondering what to do.

But each night at 9:00 PM, I'm usually on the couch watching my "Geek TV." You know, the National Geographic Channel, the Science Channel, the Discovery Channel. If there's a documentary about conjoined twins, or a new planet, or Bigfoot, I am there!

Man, I gotta get to the gym. . . .