Have you ever been run over by a truck? I can't say I have had such an experience; I can only say that I've felt like I have.
I felt like I had been on the wrong end of a Peterbilt several days ago, after I again decided -- like an idiot -- it was time to start getting in shape (other than the shape "round"). Now, this was not the first time I have ever made this decision; I also made it about this time last year.
Last year, I looked at myself in the mirror and saw something resembling the Pillsbury Doughboy, minus the fashionable white scarf (I even go "he he!" when poked in the stomach. It's not something I'm proud of).
A good friend of mine, who was getting married and had an understandable desire to fit into her wedding dress, also had motivation to get in better shape. We therefore headed down to the local chain Gym That Says It Is Open 24 Hours Which Is Actually A Lie (GTSIIO24HWIAAL), plunked down an unbelievable amount of money, and became members of GTSIIO24HWIAAL.
I am proud to say that for four months, the $35 per month I plunked down at the gym was well worth it. I worked out an average of four times a week and got in the best shape of my adult life. While I lost only about 5 pounds, I relinquished some unnecessary flab and gained lots of muscle (bringing myself to the point where I could potentially hold my own in fisticuffs with most cast members of "Revenge of the Nerds"). I was looking good, and feeling good.
But as life often does when you are looking and feeling good, life smacked me upside the head and brought me back to reality. Kind of like what Kenny Guinn did to Aaron Russo.
The bills started adding up, and it became apparent I had two options: get a second job, or move into my car. I chose to get a second job, because while I could possibly live without a roof over my head, I could not ever dream of living without cable TV.
As jobs tend to do, however, this second job took up time. Therefore, there was less time to work out (and watch cable TV). I started working out twice a week. Then once every two weeks. Then about as often as a new Bill Clinton sex scandal comes along. Then back down to about every two weeks.
Before I knew it, I was hardly visiting GTSIIO24HWIAAL at all. All I was really doing was making my monthly $35 donation to the GTSIIO24HWIAAL, which I am sure in large part must go to a fund to purchase Spandex for certain employees there who, I hate to say, should not wear Spandex for any reason, ever.
Over the holiday season, I did not go to the gym at all. I was just too busy, and I never had the time.
Well, after Christmas, I was looking at myself in the mirror again, and saw something that disturbed me. While I did not lose all of the muscle I had gained at the gym (thanks to that part-time job where I occasionally lift things and exert myself physically) some of the blubber returned. It was a sad sight to see: I didn't exactly look like the Pillsbury Doughboy anymore; instead, I was looking more like the Michelin man.
So, I went to the gym for the first time the other day. And I worked out, and did a good job. While I have lost some strength and stamina since not going to GTSIIO24HWIAAL for a while, I was still doing pretty good. And I pushed myself; I left the gym feeling great.
I was doing wonderfully. That is, until I had the audacity to wake up the next day. I tried to get out of bed, and after a bit of a struggle, I actually succeeded. But then I went to walk.
To picture this, try to imagine a pirate walking with a peg leg, wearing medicine balls for shoes, while eight months pregnant. I swear my cat was laughing at me (I didn't know cats could laugh). My arms and chest felt like I had been the main instrument at a "Stomp" performance, and my stomach felt like I had attempted to belly-bump a ticked-off rhinoceros.
Simply put, I felt like a truck had run me over.
Therefore, I have resolved to start going to the gym more often. With the two jobs, working out four times a week may be a pipe-dream, but twice a week seems reasonable. I just want to get in better shape -- and to avoid ever hearing my cat snicker at me again.
Jimmy Boegle, a fifth-generation Nevadan, is proud to be the first person to ever use the words "rhinoceros," "belly-bump," and "Stomp" (the performing group) in the same sentence. Jimmy's column appears here Tuesdays; he can be reached at jiboegle@alumni.stanford.org.