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Sweating my way
I used to scorn people who exercise by machine. It's so … so … robotic, and so boring. Well, now I'm one of them. Mindless and mechanical maybe, but perfect for burning calories and toning flesh when it's raining and dark outside.
My husband swims, but I'd hate driving off to a pool and then plunging into cold and wet. My kids play sports, but I'd rather sweat in private and on my own schedule. I used to jog outside, but a friend of mine who prosecutes night rovers in quantity, admonished my pre-dawn ritual. At our cabin in the woods, a lurking cougar threatens those jogs as well.
To be sure of daily exercise when normal hours are crammed with kids and work, a 4 a.m. routine is the only guarantee. Besides, those hours before the day begins are my best for pushing body and brain. I step on the treadmill, earphones pumping music, pen and paper nearby, then turn it on and start moving.
Five minutes later, and bored? No way. Ideas dance through my head at the speed of running feet. I plan the next column, plot strategies for motivating my first-grader, ponder last night's news. An hour later, I'm done. Wash up and take my notes to the kitchen for coffee and then to the computer. Before long, it's time for the others to rise and meander down for breakfast. No wonder they avoid me when I join them with fresh ideas frothing like orange juice. I'm wired, and ready to communicate. They barely focus. Nobody else wants my routine, or my machine.
Probably the biggest complaint about exercise equipment is its curious connection to brain atrophy. Those who simply step on a treadmill or bike and push GO are at risk. They will undoubtedly face mental deceleration to dangerously low rpm's, and ultimate shut down. The legs will still move, but the brain will not. Most people step off at that point, maybe 5-10 minutes on the timer. Hardly a workout. Then they blame their brain-snoozing on the device. Wrong.
Like any moving vehicle, one must learn to drive an exercise machine. The key is knowing how to steer the mind, not the medium. Some suggestions: watch TV, or else listen to music while you plan your day, design a product, solve personal or professional problems, whatever. Just come to the machine ready for a mind-expanding experience, and then take the trip. Believe me, it works, most of the time. When it doesn't, I just pretend to think, and usually something happens.
Other hang-ups? An exercise machine looks totally uncool in the TV room where friends will see it and then eye you. So, put the aesthetically-challenged appliance in a big closet, the rec room, or beside the washer and dryer. Another negative: it's more natural to run or walk outside, and you'd rather do that. Me too, so let's go when it's light out and not raining. In Seattle? Okay, you say you'd rather exercise with friends. If you've got time to arrange it and follow through, that's great.
Your list of reasons why not to, could be long. Mine had a dozen entries, until I got sick of soaking-wet sneakers and safety issues, tore up the list and bought a treadmill. That was two years ago. Except for sleep-in days and sour mornings, my brain flies at 4 a.m. and my body craves the ride. Like my car, my computer, and my coffee pot, this machine makes the right things happen.