My former employer caused my first mid-life crisis by becoming... my former employer. There's nothing quite like the loss of a long held job in your 40's to cause a good, full-blown mid-life crisis. The second crisis came not so much from that sad event, but from what I decided to do with it. Who knew that taking up writing for a living, at least I hope the 'making a living' part starts soon, could be so hard on the body?
After a year and a half of reading, researching and writing, I have got into the wrong shape. The shape of a pear or cantaloupe is generally not considered to be "in shape" for fitness purposes. As the aches and pains of the sedentary lifestyle had started to weigh on me, literally, I figured that I might as well trade them for the aches and pains of starting a workout program. Time to dust off the old Bowflex and exercise bike in the basement!
First discovery: pedaling a stationary bike in my unfinished basement is dreadfully dull; not quite as dull as writer's block is, but pretty dull just the same. The second workout was simply grabbing some old A/V components off the basement shelves and getting something to watch and listen to while pedaling away.
Second discovery: getting past the second workout is a victory. Almost anyone can do that first workout. The couch-potato body is taken by surprise; plenty of energy is available from all the stored carbs; and the most serious ache waits in the future. The next day of course, the invoice from that first workout comes due. Getting out of bed, walking, and other simple tasks become agonizing as the body complains about the unexpected exertion from the day before. That second workout, usually two days later, is the one where you truly get started on the program. Waiting longer than two days runs the risk of having another "first workout" and going through that same agonizing "day after". It is before the second workout that many of us decide to stop the program before it really gets started.
Third discovery: computer games are of dubious value to the body in taking a break from writing. The mind gets a chance to relax, but the body stays in front of the computer in that same ergonomically erroneous position as it does when writing. The cat is of no help in this at all. He sleeps for hours beside the computer monitor, gets up, stretches and takes off at the run. I sit for hours at the computer, get up, try to stretch, and fall over from sitting in one spot too long. My breaks must be frequent and involve some sort of activity. Filling the pet dish or cleaning the litter box are both cat-approved break activities.
Fourth discovery: The cat is of no help in working out in the basement either. The look he gives me is that same blank stare you might give your brother if he were to park his brand new Ford Fiesta* in the monkey cage at the zoo... and walk away leaving the doors open. If I had six cats, I could only imagine them calling to each other,
"Hey Felix, come check this out! Our liter box maintenance staff is pedaling for all he's worth and getting nowhere at all!"
"Why do you suppose he does that, Mort?"
"Dunno, but I think we need to stare at him until he stops."
Cats, I've noticed, feel no social pressure to workout or stay in shape, but are fascinated by my efforts for as long as it takes me to workout, or about fifteen minutes at my present fitness level.
Bucky
*Ford Fiesta chosen at random for its alliterative value. Not a shameless plug to get a giant corporation to sponsor my blog!
