First, an admission: I don’t keep a regular fitness routine. I’ve tried everything: Jogging. Uh … Well, that’s about it. Jogging.
Yeah, I’m not really the healthiest guy around. So whenever we have a Health and Fitness issue, I start feeling guilty. Guilty about my health. Guilty about my bad habits. Guilty about my questionable hygiene. For instance, I get winded while playing video games—even the non-Wii sort.
No, that’s not true. I wanted to start with something outrageous, so I look at least a little better in your eyes when I make these confessions. Among the many things I feel do guilty about:
• I don’t get enough sleep.
• I floss as often as I go to the dentist.
• I bite my fingernails.
• I crack my knuckles and pop most of my joints pretty much every day.
• I rarely wear sunscreen.
• I wince more than I think is appropriate when I put on aftershave.
• I brush my teeth and gums more vigorously than I ought.
• I can never remember how many bones are in the human body.
• I often find myself eating paper I’ve torn off of the notepad I’m holding.
• I prefer to “power through” sicknesses instead of resting or taking medicine.
• I don’t believe Airborne actually works, at least on me.
• If there’s bacon, I’ll eat it.
• I don’t donate blood as often as I’d like.
• There’s a spot in the middle of my back I can’t reach to scratch if it itches.
• I don’t change my car’s oil as often as I should.
(That last one isn’t really about my health, but I still feel guilty about it.)
True story: My co-worker recently invited me to get lunch with her at a local grocery store. When we arrived, I realized there was an Arby’s in the same parking lot. Plus, the Arby’s was closer to where she parked, so I didn’t have to walk as far to get my roast beef sandwiches and curly fries. I’m not proud of it, but it happened. While I was editing our Health and Fitness stories.
This time of the year, my mood is always compounded by the fact that New Year’s Eve prompts resolutions, and I always at least consider resolving to get into better shape. I joke, but I know it’s important. I know a guy who has pre-diabetes, and he jokes that what comes next is diabetes, then post-diabetes, also known as death. I’d like to take care of myself so I can stick around as long as possible. So I’m still in search of a fitness routine.
Any ideas? Let me tell you a little bit about myself first. I’m not what anyone would generously call “muscular.” I have no idea what I can bench press, though with a toddler around the house, I know it’s at least 20 pounds. I bet I could handle another five, six pounds, easy.
[image-3] I’ve never played a team sport, or any organized sport, for that matter. My parents are both very active, from the golf to the softball to the what-have-you, but I wasn’t ever really into sports. I was more of a read-my-book-at-the-NBA-game kid. My reasoning was: Why should I sit and watch sports when I could be out playing sports? This argument failed to impress many people since, as I’ve noted, I never played any sports.
In the spirit of full disclosure—mostly because I like you—I’ll tell you a secret. I was pretty fit in high school because I took ballet lessons, and the instructor worked us like we were football players training for homecoming: pushups, sit-ups, stretches. You name it, we did it, plus we had to lift girls up over our heads, which I don’t think even the quarterback could do. At least as gracefully.
My 20-month-old daughter is clearly going to be an athlete, and I have nothing to contribute to her upbringing in that regard. Go back and add that to my guilty list. She’ll have to teach me how to throw a baseball and kick a goal. The best I’ll be able to do is cheer her on from the stands or sidelines while I munch on a cheeseburger. m
Executive Editor Ryan Miller does like to play racquetball when he gets the chance. Contact him at rmiller@santamariasun.com.
This article appears in Jan 22-29, 2009.
