Workout Hiatus

You wouldn't think that writing is something you had to physically train for.  But at this age, I do.  Twice this year, I have managed to sustain a workout for two months, every other day.  I started the first go around the middle of June and was able to sustain it until early September.  Then, for some reason, I lapsed.  It started with me finding an excuse to put it off a day, then two days, then more, until for three weeks, I didn't work out at all.

I got myself back on the wagon in late September, about the time my grandson was born.  Three weeks of mostly non-activity, particularly since I sit at a computer all day, is unfriendly to my body.  But I did get over that and continued until about three weeks ago, after the middle of November.  Then it went the same way: finding reasons not to do it.

I've never been an exerciser.  I don't get much of a dopamine kick from it, I don't enjoy the endorphins overmuch ... and as such, it's boring.  This year is the most consistent I've been since High School, when I had practices before school and after, and coaches to bitch at me if I didn't show up, and enslavement that said I had to go to school and therefore be at the mercy of those coaches.  I've never like working out.

This year, however, it must be that I'm older and have a better ability to meditate while working out; I can think about something I want to write and find flow, and that helps make the 45 minute work out zip by.  I'm not sure why I've stopped; I was getting fairly comfortable with the routine, losing weight, feeling fit, and getting to feel it's something I could do for the rest of my life.

When I stop, I find that my body slowly, daily, seizes up.  Nitrogen deposits, most likely, perhaps a need for magnesium, but functionally I get up each morning feeling more and more stiff.  I may not be tired from working out, but I get less and less writing done because I sit in the chair and don't feel like digging in mentally.  I hurt too much.

I started working out again Friday.  A patient, strained 45 minute workout, going gentle.  Legs buzzing with charley horses (yes, I eat bananas), in-steps cramping when I point my toes, heavy sweating.  I do a stretch workout that is not designed to build up muscle mass, but which is chosen to stretch each muscle group and allow my joints to flex better.  It is a dancer's workout I learned back when I was in theatre.

For four days now, I have felt completely loose and anything but stiff.  But, the changeover to working out again leaves me drained, dehydrated (though I am guzzling everything) and mentally disinterested in digging into anything mentally.  So, effectively, the same mindset I had when I started working out again, but for different reasons.

This second feeling goes away in about ten days, or five workouts.  By eight or nine workouts, I feel fairly good; I stop needing aspirin or taking muscle relaxants.  By fifteen, I am really comfortable.  I don't know why I stay there, but ... for some reason I begin resisting the process.  Clearly, I have no choice about it.  It is work out, feed the white wolf and accept that some of my day won't be my own, or feed the black wolf and let my body tighten itself into inactivity.  I envy those people who get really excited about their opportunity to work out that day ... but, in retrospect, I've never been friends with people like that.  They always seem rather shallow.

Oh well.  I hope I can make this go-around last a month longer before I stop.  I should feel like writing about serious subjects in a few days.