Copyrights reserved by the author. If you are in doubt, please click on 'Copyrights' and read the details.After a lifetime of chasing fitness, how come I'm overweight and out of breath By J. G. Fabiano Why does the mind stay young while the body becomes so old and tired? Why would we even think that a body that has lasted over a half a century would be able to keep up with a mind that refuses to grow up? I felt the full impact of these and other important questions while walking over to my niece's house early on Sunday morning. The night before she'd had us over for a get together and, because it was a good one, I had to get myself together in order to get the things I forgot at her house the night before. Under ordinary conditions this would have been an easy task but, because of a few too many ‘old brown dogs' the night before, the challenge of walking a whole block on a warm and sunny morning was not that easy. But, since one of the things I forgot was my cell phone and, because I did not want some stranger to use it for conversations with an old friend from Siberia, I found myself limping over to pick it up. Halfway there I heard the sound of thunder behind me. It was not really thunder but in my condition the sound of an ant walking on a leaf was like a herd of elephants stampeding across a tin roof. The sound kept getting louder so I turned around and saw a young woman wearing jogging colors so bright they made my eyes hurt. She slowed down and asked if I wanted to jog along with her. Thirty years ago she would not have had to ask me twice but, since I was just trying to keep breathing, I told her no thanks and off into the far horizon she ran. I hadn't gone more than a few steps when another jogger ran up beside me. This one I knew because she was a neighbor who jogged past our house every morning as I watched her through the window while drinking my fifth cup of coffee. She paused only to ask if her friend was giving me a hard time. Trying not to sound too breathless I said: "Could you just stop being so damned healthy?"She just smiled, turned on the jets and off into the horizon to join her friend. As I labored on to my niece's house I found myself wondering if there was still hope for me. Three decades ago I belonged to the ranks of the healthy that used to jog the one and a third miles of the Nubble. I didn't do it every day but when I did I never concerned myself with aches and pains. I was more concerned with getting back to the house so I could watch another Red Sox loss on TV. But these were the days my body and mind were both young. The first time I ever started to really worry about my size was when I turned 30. I think it had a lot to do with my new family and the general stresses that life imposes. But, I wouldn't trade that time in my life for any insurance policy promising I would never have to exercise again. Back then toning and firming routines were the way to go. At least that's what I was told by my always-thin wife. I convinced myself that, even though I would never see 170 lbs. again, at least I could become proportional with the added weight. At this point in my life the added weight was beginning to concentrate in the middle of my body and under my chin. These routines worked well for a while but got stale fast. Especially when I couldn't keep up with the 40-year old women who were always hogging the mirror at my exercise classes. A few years later I panicked when I hit 180 lbs. I thought I could be saved from obesity because the airwaves were full of people trying the newest of exercise routines called aerobics. My wife and I joined an aerobics club and off we danced to every Donna Summers record known to mankind. The only problem was the clubs were usually in basements with cement floors. I thought jogging did a number on my knees and ankles but aerobics came close to putting me on crutches. And I still had a problem with those 50-year old women that were always in the front row hogging the mirror space. Later on that same year my health club introduced the newest of aerobic exercise equipment. A mini trampoline. Wow! My wife and I bought two mini trampolines and off we bounced to music by the Bee-Gees. This system pretty well until one day my wife missed the trampoline, hit the floor and repositioned her knees and ankles. This exercise craze ended just in time. My next find was a health club with a spring loaded aerobics floor and a universal machine that the owners guaranteed would put me in the greatest of shape. The floor was great for my knees but the club was always crowded. I recollect slapping at least three or four people in the mouth during the arm work. What really turned me off though was when I was kicked in the groin during the legwork. Other than that, all went well except for being totally outdone by those 60-year-old ladies hogging the best spots on the aerobics floor in front of the mirror. Those damned kids who complained that I was taking up the best mirror space also annoyed me. I finally lost interest in this club when I almost strangled myself among the many wires of the universal machine. I have since suffered through many machines in my life that promised to keep me fit and young. One was a weight machine called The Nautilus. Even the name sounded like it might mean. It had a kidney shaped gadget that was supposed to distribute the weight so that all the muscles of my body would benefit. It worked beautifully. After each workout every muscle of my body was in an equal amount of pain and stayed that way for an incredible amount of time. Another futuristic machine was called the Life Cycle. This was a bicycle-like contraption that had a computer telling you when you were going up an imaginary hill and when you were going down what I assumed was the same hill. I didn't need the computer to tell me when it was time to throw up or when it was time for my Achilles' tendon to tear asunder. Another year introduced a new marvel of technology; a kind of toning bed on which you lay while receiving mild electric shocks that were supposed to work your muscles and thus tone them up even though you never moved off the table. I thought it was the greatest invention since apple sauce. I actually made it to the waiting area until I was scared away by a woman whose frizzy hair could only have been caused by multiple electric shocks. I also remembered other exercise machines like the hydraulic stair stepper that promised me buns of steel and left me feeling like I had bowels of cement. There was the rowing machine that succeeded only in putting holes in my living room carpet and a ski machine that lost more nuts and bolts than it had when I put it together. One of the most impressive, and simplest, came with the fad of step aerobics. For a mere $135 you could buy a single plastic step you could step up and down on. I figured this had to have been invented by the same marketing genius who came up with pet rocks. At least it and I didn't lose any parts. I was sweating and red faced when I made it to my niece's front door and she invited me in to sit down and have a glass of water. When she asked me if I was going to be alright I told her I would be fine, as long as she could give me a ride home. The End.
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