Reality hits the mat with you

Starting over is not the easiest thing.  I've moved from an apartment to a room,  I'm thinking of leaving a fairly secure job, family may require me to leave my favorite city for one that's blech in comparison. Why is it all of those seem easier than putting my mind to dropping pounds and increasing fitness?

My demons chasing the reality of rebuilding fitness:

This feels like hell > > > Hey, guess what feels like hell? Being older, stiffer and losing capability.

I used to be able to do all this stuff so easily > > > So get there already.

This is silly, all this effort. "No one dies of physical fitness"! > > > Shut up and Spin, dummy.

That chick on the machine next to me...she's working harder. She thinks I'm lame. > > > You are lame, right up to the moment you kick it into a higher gear. Cut your own path.

The reality is: It is harder, fitness wanders off unless you keep it close, and yeah, pretty much anyone could kick your ass if they wanted to.

But do it because it's harder. Keep it close because your body is a damn good friend. And cheer on any woman you see sweating it up - the other unfortunate reality is, bouncing off the Fat Wall happens more often to us than it needs to.  Be the change....be the change...

Move It and/or Lose It

Surely, when they update definitions in the Oxford Dictionary, this one should be added:

Desk Job/faet' aess/ (n)

1. Work that involves long hours at a desk.
2. An involuntary method of adding flab and increasing one's BMI.

As I sit here typing this, I can grab my gut with one hand, squish it like kneaded dough, lift it off my thighs, and swing it around like Jeter at home plate.

Homer said it best: "Wu-HOO! Lookit that blubber fly!!" (that's a direct quote from The Iliad.) I've been in this uncomfortable place before, misquoting ancient Greeks and playing with my belly fat. The last time was 8 years ago, just before I decided to take action by joining a marathon training program...which resulted the gain of an additional ten pounds.

Yeeeaaaah.

Now, of course, I know better - it's a balance between food and activity, one dependent upon the other. And I know why every fitness and health magazine cover has at least one blaring-red tease touting flatter stomachs and faster weight loss: The real formula for having the body you want - you, individually - is unique, somewhat complex, and a real PITA to figure out.

There are some decent solutions you can throw at the yoga mat to see if they stick, and we've investigated some of them here. But if you're anything like me, you really, really get into it for a while and then after the 100th mile, the 150th salad or the millionth sit-up, you hit the wall. Suddenly, you want every future Sunday morning to be snuggles and lolling instead of heart rate and Clif shot.

I thought that was OK for a while, and enjoyed not measuring my life by zones and tempos. But it wasn't worth the trade - I grow older, and my fitness declines faster with each year. There's no pause button on this machine, you either keep it moving or lose the ability.

So here I am, starting over, as I said I would over the past months but took no action until now. A motivating desire for fitness is just another wall you have to hit. The wall that is sprayed with tags: "The longer you wait, the longer it takes;" "Aging = Stiffness" and "Nothing changes until you change your mind." It's not inspiration, it's reality. The wall says You Do Not Want To Be That Person.

I've been that person. I love my Sunday mornings. But my Saturday mornings are about miles, supplements, sweat and rediscovered joy.