Resolutions

The last time I made a resolution that lasted beyond the 15^th of January was in 2002. I had resolved that year to watch less of the X-Files. Now of course fans of that show know that it was cancelled in May of 2002. Coincidence? I carried the guilt of my resolution for a short while; had the lack of my viewing eyes resulted in the ultimate demise of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully?

For a decade I have avoided the centuries old tradition of resolution making, scarred by the X-File curse. But this year, with the influence of my over-caring daughter, I once again looked inward for areas in need of improvement (turns out there were more than I care to admit) and resolved to strive for improvement in 2012.

After careful consideration I landed on improving my overall fitness. As I said earlier there are many areas that I could improve on, I will save those for future years, why be greedy. Now it just so happen that Sara has been telling me for a number of months now that we should join a gym. A superb procrastinator when I need to be I delayed granting her wish, using finances as the reason. Last week when Planet Fitness offered a great deal it exterminated my only viable excuse. So we joined.

Sara told me that I had to go now that we were members, no making excuses about being too tired or too busy. So I reminded her that I am, by design, the most prolific cheapskate she may ever know, and now that I am spending money on this activity I will surely squeeze every dime’s worth of value out of it. I unfolded the long tucked away workout clothes, dusted off my running shoes and headed to the gym.

I had researched the best workout routines to accomplish the goals I have set for myself.  Chiseled biceps and six pack abs are long term, make that very long term goals. Realistically the lack of activity for a number of years pointed me first to cardio rehabilitation. The experts recommended the treadmill and the elliptical equipment. It would be boring, I would rather have worked out on the weights, but I remembered recently getting winded when walking up some stairs, so I headed to the treadmill.

This is not your father’s treadmill. The dashboard has more lights and buttons on it than Marty McFly’s De Lorean.  After a few minutes I was able to figure out which buttons to push to make the tread move at what I hoped would be a novice’s speed. I had selected the program called “Cardio”, after all that is what I was there for.

The initial pace was almost leisurely.  The readout on the dashboard recorded distance, calories burnt, pace and something called MEM.  After a few minutes the pace increased slightly as well as the incline. The latter was a bit of a surprise. I continued to walk and look at the lights on the dashboard. The pace again increased after the allotted time and was now noticeably requiring more of an effort. The sweat began to drop from every pore. The pace again increased. My eyes caught a heart symbol on the right lower corner of the dash, it was flashing red. It was then I realized the handles I held worked as a pulse meter. Red heart! That couldn’t be good. I scanned the dashboard for the digital read out that would tell me the BPM. It turns out that I had misread the MEM, (glasses on forehead instead of on nose bridge) it actually read BPM. Below it, also in red, 127. Now I didn’t know what it was supposed to be, but 127 didn’t seem too bad. The read out that let me know how much time was left in this cardio workout showed 16 minutes. I can do this, I encouraged myself, what’s another 16 minutes.

The BPM increased to 133. The amount of sweat was alarming.

Seven minutes to go. The BPM had increased again to 146, only now there was an audible alarm that seemed to sing in time with the red pulsing heart. I looked around; no one seemed to hear this alarm. Either that or no one was concerned by it. I thought what if this is like the car alarms we hear in the mall shopping lot and just ignore, never knowing if it is really a car thief or an idiot with a new key fob.

Four minutes to go. The BPM indicator read 168. I noticed another sound. It took a moment to realize that it was me wheezing. I am not a quitter, but I am not stupid either, so I pressed the large red (red seems to be the predominate color on the deathmill) button that had STOP embossed on it.

I glanced around again to see if anyone noticed my failed attempt on the cardio treadmill. No one did, they were all in their own world, perhaps honoring their own resolutions. I cooled down by enjoying a slow walk around the facility. I decided that was enough for this first trip to the Planet Fitness.

God is everywhere.

I believe that He was with me on the treadmill. 168 is not fatal, but probably not very good either. But I didn’t pass out and nothing exploded or imploded, I owe that to His grace.

On my out God showed me something else… me. The floor to ceiling mirror that is so common in a fitness center reflected the truth. I saw the red (red again!) in my face. My normally well groomed hair was a mess. I looked defeated. In less than thirty minutes I had gone from a poor picture of health to a pitiful picture of health. My pounding heart had quietened down enough to allow me to hear God say, “Your children are young, they need you for many more years.”

I stopped short of leaving and walked back in. I sought out an instructor’s advice to help an out of shape, aging father with a better and safer approach.

That was day one. I returned each day since except today, after all it is Sunday, and the playoffs are on. Some habits are hard to break.