Ducking The Issue
Wednesday - December 02, 2009
Here it is, about a month before the new year 2010, and only now am I starting up on my 2009 New Year’s resolution. Disgust for my current physical condition has finally pushed me to a commitment to get in shape. A good friend of mine gave me a scientific formula that calculates how long you’ll live.
When I applied the formula to myself, the number I came out with turned out to be the producer’s phone number for The Biggest Loser. Seriously, after my bout earlier this year with kidney cancer, I needed to grasp reality and work to extend my life.
The thing is, I’ve never been the kind of guy to go to a “glam gym.” So when the opportunity came about to work with someone who trained professional boxers and MMA fighters, I leapt at the chance. He’s the real deal, and when I told him about my struggle, he said he would work with me.
This was the first time I ever had a trainer, so I was excited about getting started. He’s all about common-sense training, and there’s no fancy equipment or a monetary commitment to any top commercial gyms. He’s in for a challenge, as he needs to transform this Pauley into a Rocky.
For two weeks he had me write down everything I ate and started me on a walking program to get my “wheels” back. It’s pretty eye-opening to see what you’ve eaten in a single day. It looked like the buffet menu from Makino Chaya.
Two weeks had passed and it was time to work out with my trainer at his gym. It was a fighter’s gym, a space among a bunch of warehouses. It had a boxing ring and looked like the set right out of Million Dollar Baby.
Although the crowd there was friendly, they all looked like hardcore fighters. I was determined not to look like an office geek. I worked hard that first session, and it reminded me of high school football tryouts. By the end of the hour I was dripping sweat. I went to my gym bag to grab a towel.
As I wiped my face it unfurled. I had pulled out an old towel given to us for our wedding shower. It was light blue and had a family of yellow ribbon-fabric ducks sewn on it. I think everyone was waiting for my mommy to show up to comb my hair. Man, I better learn how to fight, and “pronto!”
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