Photo: Foxtongue, Flickr Creative CommonsYesterday I wrote about how I'm falling apart. Then, I go to tennis practice yesterday afternoon, go running with a few of the players and pass all of them except the kid who plays above his skill level purely by being able to outrun his opponents' shots and keep doing that for the duration of the match. That kid's in crazy good shape. Still, my fat ass managed to outrun some of those stick-thin bastards.
Seriously, I'm 246 lbs. as of this weekend. I've kept within a very narrow range (243-248) for the past five years or so, and this is basically the weight I've kept since I was about 21. During a bout with Weight Watchers and gym membership back when I was 23, I got down to about 210 and kept it there for about six months before gradually putting the weight back on. When I was 20, I spent a summer running three miles every day and got down to about 215.
Now, for most of the guys I know, 246 would be freaking blubbery, and I'll admit that I'm most definitely overweight by a few tens of pounds, but I'm 6'3". I'm not exactly qualifying for the Truffle Shuffle... yet.
I actually surprised myself a little yesterday. I haven't done any formal running in a few years. Like I said, back in college I managed three miles a day for one summer and I managed this jog at a pretty good clip. Of course, if I could keep it up and drop a bit of my excess weight, I'd be better off. I'd be a better tennis player. Quicker. Slower to tire. I'd be able to shorten the amount of time Mickey has to wait on me when we go hiking on a steep section of trail. I'm willing to admit my shortcomings. The only way I'd be able to keep up with Mickey on the hardest trail sections would be if I had a fairly strenuous workout schedule and kept to it at least a few days a week. The guy is a freak and I'm not willing to dedicate hours a week just to be less emasculated for the short steep sections on our shared hikes once or twice a year. Personally, I think he may not be real, but I haven't been able to prove it yet.
As for exercising for my health, fuck my health. I don't give a good goddamn about my old age. I'll deal with that when I get there. I'm just not going to give up what I enjoy now just so I can be a little less decrepit when I'm old. My family history is full of active senior citizenship with worse lifestyles than mine anyway.
It'd be interesting to see if I were able to keep this running thing up, even increase the distance. Get back up to a couple of miles a day. I could easily go for a little run after tennis practice during the week. It would only keep me for a few more minutes than I already have to stay, and I'd obviously be dressed already for exercise.
Of course I know this won't happen. I get urges at times to start up an exercise regimen, to put up the chin-up bar on the bathroom door frame, to go for a run, to get back to doing nightly sit ups and push ups. That always seems to pass when I remember that I'm incredibly lazy. I could blame the masters classes and tennis practices and demands for quality time from my wife and child, but honestly, I'm more active now than I have been since my first two years out of college when I still had a gym membership and actually used it. Even if I were to go running tomorrow after practice, after a few days or weeks, I'd hit a day when I just didn't feel like it or couldn't squeeze it into my schedule, and I quickly fall out of the habit. This isn't whining, it's just admitting who I really am. I'm relatively dependable when I have to do something for others. I suck at keeping promises to myself. I'm too damn forgiving. Someone want to pay me to exercise? I'll show up every day and on time to make sure I'm not taking your money unfairly.
Maybe I should sign up for a 5k. I'd have to train for that. Signing up for my first tennis tournament and having to play at high school practices got me obsessive about playing tennis again. Maybe paying money to run and not wanting to embarrass myself would be a motivating factor to keep running. Time to go a Googlin', I guess.