The Stickman Chronicles, Day 31

 I don’t know what possesses people to do certain things.  I also know that I am a people.  So I honestly have no idea why I chose this year to have my mid-life crisis.  I can tell you that it didn’t sneak up on me, because I have been planning this for months.

             I chose the first day of July as Day One of the Stickman Chronicles.  I call it this because it isn’t an average diet and exercise program.  I am 41 years old, but because of some twist of genetic probability, I have the body of a 12 year old boy.  I am 5-10, and weigh 144 pounds, a classic Ectomorph.  I will look up one day and have the body of a 90-year old man, and will likely skip all the stages in between.  My joints already hurt when I try to run, and I make noises like a box of Rice Crispies when I climb out of bed.

Some of my friends who can gain weight simply by driving past a Baskin Robbins seem to think this is a blessing.  Trust me it is not.  Lack of physical presence makes it difficult to be taken seriously in a business workplace, and I think it’s also more difficult to be considered for positions of greater responsibility.  Perhaps part of this is self-fulfilling – that is, because I don’t think I project a presence, I don’t.  A few of my friends tell me I am dead wrong about this, that when I need to project, I’m more than capable.  It’s just not something I can do on purpose.

Quit complaining that you are skinny, they say.  My mother reminds me that I make ten times the salary that she did.  Doesn’t change anything.  I’m not happy with my body.  I’m certainly not happy with the fact that I am getting older.  So all of you who know what it is like to not like what you see in the mirror should know exactly how hard this is to do.  If I ever run for President, this photo will probably be on my opponent’s campaign poster.

(You may ridicule the Stickman's hat or his Bob Marley pants, but please don't ridicule the Stickman's body)

            So, in classic fashion, I enter a midlife crisis, defined as a paradigm shift in attitude.  I am going to fight this.  I won’t ever be 6 feet tall and be 200 pounds of solid muscle, nor will I ever be 25.  But I would like to be healthier.  I would like to be stronger.  Faster.  Better than before.  Maybe I would like to make a funny sound effect from the 70’s when I run.  That would be awesome.

            Enter Mohammed, my new personal trainer.  His resume?  That’s easy.  He used to be a 130-pound stickman, but now he’s built like a brick outhouse.  He competed in the most recent Mr. Peru competition.  He moves amounts of steel that should require an industrial winch.

            My biggest issue with training is simply my own ignorance.  From 20 years in the healthcare field, I know quite a lot about the human body and how it functions.  Exercise physiology was never something I studied, because I never thought exercise was something that could kill you.

            So Mohammed sets out on day one to prove me wrong.  His strategy is simple, he had me use dumbbells or the simplest of machines that almost every gym has.  The first one was just a plain old dumbbell press, three sets of ten.

            I used 20-pounders, and it was just about all I could do to squeeze out the last two of the second set.  By halfway through the third set, Mohammed was giving me two or three pounds of assistance.  I’m really glad there was no one else in the gym.

            He had me going through lat pull-downs, tricep extensions, and some kind of rowing exercise where I sit upright.  Weights equally as pathetic, but I dutifully recorded it all in my notebook.

            I have always objected to cardio, simply because of my fear of burning excess calories.  It’s true I won’t be doing 45 minute of it every day, but I don’t have to fear it either.  I get on the treadmill for a few minutes to warm up, and crank the incline up to 8 degrees.  Once my Heart rate hits 140, then it’s time to start pumping iron.

            See?  It already sounds more manly than it really was had you actually seen it.

            So according to the title, this is an update as of Day 31.  It hasn’t gone as well as I expected.  We went on a week-long vacation to high altitude, and I probably ate some bad food somewhere along the line, and both of these events disrupted the ideal schedule.

                Which brought the total days spent in the gym to six for the month of July.  Hardly a stellar beginning.  I have no one to blame for this – it is a result of not being properly motivated to get myself to the gym.  Boil everything else down, and the only thing left is that I didn’t want it bad enough.

                A few good things have come from this, though.  I have a handful of exercises to do, and I know the weights to use and the number of reps.  I still don’t really have a routine yet, mostly because certain muscles in my body tend to scream for me to kill myself for several days.  I have thus far resisted.

                The Chronicles of the Stickman continue.