Falling From Fitness...

Over my adult life there have been several different levels of fitness in the physical sense. I don't suspect this qualifies me for some sort of bailout or aid, since most everyone plays the game. Or perhaps better put, they often enough don't play the game. And although there is strong correlation between mental and physical fitness, let's just isolate the body angle this time around.

I am in really lousy shape.

This shocks me?

Of course not. I put myself in lousy shape from the first day in this new job, which is now a little over two an one half years old.

See, for years and years, I could never figure out what it was people did behind office walls and doors for hours on end each and every day of the week. I now know.

You may work your butt off in an "office" job while never getting off your butt. That's about the size of it.

As a kid, like all kids, you walked everywhere. By default of being a kid, you were in good shape.

Those awkward teen years had me still walking for the most part. Not having enough money to buy a car, I really didn't own a dependable ride until I was maybe nineteen. Even in that particular situation, "dependable" was a very vague term.

In my 20s and on the job meant getting that first real car of my own. This brought about a downward spiral in exercise and subsequent fitness.

By my mid 20s, it was back to fitness. That's when I fell in love with ten speed bicycles and rode long and hard every single day, weather permitting. Anything with less than three wheels doesn't do well in snow and a grown man on a tricycle with a little tinkle bell on the handle bar doesn't look good.

Cycling kept me in probably the best shape of my life into my 30s, that's when the knees started squawking. Off the bike, I was back on my feet and walking/running Lake Scranton on a regular basis, usually every day.

Right around forty, it was back on wheels. OK, one wheel. I bought a stationary bike that I'd pump and pedal for a half hour each day while planted in front of the TV watching All My Children before going to work. That, too, had to end, because my knees required being completely slathered with some brand of cold-hot topical in order to deaden the pain.

Never forget the added magic that a stationary bike offers. Somehow, those bikes that go nowhere make time stand still.

And so on and on and on, the rhythm of keeping fit rises, falls, and stalls.

Then, about five or six years ago, I got serious about walking again. It was an unalterable routine; one hour minimum of tough, fast, as much uphill as flatland walking. Every day, in all weather, sixty minutes minimum, with most days hitting more like an hour and fifteen.

Yeah, some days it was an enormous hardship to get on my legs and hit the pavement. Some days, I hated it, dreaded it, but I did it, that was all that mattered.

Feeling a very strong need to run, or at least jog, my knees put the screws to that in a hurry. From a "wind" standpoint, running was no problem. My knees just said no.

And so did my doctor when he pointed out that the benefits of walking are roughly equal to those of running. The big difference is that you don't blow out your knees and have to start shopping for a surgeon to replace them.

Factor in a couple years of near sedentary behavior and we come right to this very moment, when I just returned from a really good walk of about forty minutes.

I plan on doing the same tomorrow, and the day after, and...

Let's just see if I can get that far.