Fat of the Land

Stepped on the scale in the bathroom this morning. Didn’t like what I saw. Gained 20 pounds since moving fulltime to the mountains nearly a year ago. That’s on top of the excess weight already on the frame, pounds that add up year after year until the scale screams enough, the knees cry out for help, the ankles groan under the load and the hip goes on strike.

Stepped on the scale in the bathroom this morning. Didn’t like what I saw. Gained 20 pounds since moving fulltime to the mountains nearly a year ago.

That’s on top of the excess weight already on the frame, pounds that add up year after year until the scale screams enough, the knees cry out for help, the ankles groan under the load and the hip goes on strike.

I started putting on the pounds in the summer of 1986, the year I let myself get talked into joining a softball team. Trying to score home in the first inning of the first game, I collided with the catcher. Broken arm, dislocated shoulder and chipped bone in my heel. Summer of inactivity. Pounds came on. They didn’t go off.

I used to run to keep weight off. Worked out regularly in a gym. Avoided elevators and took the stairs.

Not now. Hip and knee troubles brought an end to running. Climbing a flight of stairs in our homes becomes a Herculean effort. Morning walks become more and more difficult. But that became more excuse than reality.

No more. Time to get serious. Diet. Exercise. Attention to details. Dust off the exercise bike in the bedroom. Find the slant board that sits unused in the garage. The annual membership in Shorrt’s Gym and Fitness Center came due this past week. Renew it Monday morning and set up a schedule for regular workouts. Goodbye fries, burger wraps, breakfast burritos and afternoon snacks. Hellos energy foods, salads, water-packed tuna and fruit.

The goal is 10 pounds a month over the next six months. A reachable goal. A necessary one as well. Stay tuned.

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© 2021 Blue Ridge Muse