Man, it's only day two (or still day one, depending on how you look at it), and I'm already sick of this thing. Okay, so maybe I'm not sick of it... but I definitely had to force myself to sit down and do it. I guess it's just like anything else you start in life. It's kinda awkward and difficult when you first get going, but then you start getting used to it and maybe even pick up some tricks that make it a little easier to continue.
Problem is, that's usually when I lose momentum and crash. I have a bicycle that I've only been on once in the last three weeks and it stares at me like a neglected ex-girlfriend from the corner of my living room. Three weeks ago, coincidentally, is when I made a bunch of upgrades to my bike and got a helmet. Before that, I was just plugging along with crap tires and faulty shifters, risking life and limb (and my huge, melon-like noggin) on the mean streets of the Anderson Mill/Parmer/McNeil area. For some reason, though, adding all that new stuff just sort of killed it for me, and I don't really know why, either.
I really enjoyed riding my bike. I liked being active and feeling healthier and I even started losing a little bit of weight. I re-discovered the pleasure that comes from working off one's anxieties and then taking a cold shower to wash them all away. I started to notice the slightest bit of definition in my calves and even got a decent tan for the first time in years, but then it all just sort of dissipated. Something about having newer, better gear made it feel like an obligation; like I had to go ride because of how much money I had spent. All of a sudden, the sweet call of the open road started being drowned out by the loudspeaker in my brain telling me how stupid it was to buy $300 worth of junk that's just going to accumulate dust because I'm never going to use it. A month ago, you would've had to fight me to keep me off my bike. It had become a vital part of my existence and I needed that time to be able to process things, to set new goals for myself, and to get the motivation to attack life that only comes from having accomplished something substantial and recent and strenuous.
And then *poof* here we are. I won't even make eye-contact with my bathroom scale anymore because I'm afraid it'll just turn on by itself and tell me how much weight I've gained without waiting for me to step on it.
I think maybe if I had abandoned my bicycle in order to start lifting weights or swimming more, I probably wouldn't feel so guilty about it. Somehow, though, I get this feeling like if my bike were a guy that I knew who I had to see every day and he asked me why I quit hanging out with him so much, it would probably hurt his feelings to tell him the truth: I prefer smoking cigarettes and spending money frivolously and hanging out with people who don't make me work so hard.
I feel like this is why I'm such a bad adult. Well, at minimum, I'm a bad adult. At worst, I think it makes me a terrible human being. Our bodies were designed to be active and powerful and enduring and productive and all I really want to do is waste the one I was given. I don't like the thought of getting fat and dying of cancer or having a stroke or a heart attack, but the only thing I hate worse is the thought of abandoning the air-conditioned safety of my apartment by peeling my lazy butt out of this gigantic, awesome desk chair and going outside where it's hot and muggy and gross and thirsty and tired and sweaty and blecchh... I don't want to experience pain and I don't want to have to say no to myself. Sometimes I feel like that's all my life is, finding out that some other thing that I've enjoyed and done for years is bad for me and I should quit.
I wonder if this is how it goes for everybody. I hear other people talk about working out or some diet they're on and I immediately feel the scarlet letters of my soul creeping toward the surface to let everyone else know what a dirty and self-indulgent person I am. I wonder if maybe everybody is passing along a note that has all the answers on it and it just hasn't gotten around to me yet. Or maybe everybody else got rid of the criticizing loudspeaker and replaced it with a nice set of reasonably-volumed ear buds that whisper nice and encouraging things to them (maybe that's what everybody else is listening to while they run). Maybe, if you're going to do good things for yourself, you have to start when you're younger and I'm too old now to really change. Maybe everybody else just listens to the drum that beats in time with their hearts and trusts it to lead them better than I do.
Whatever the case, I know that I can't change what I've done and I can't really even change where I'm at. I can change how I move forward, and that's a big deal. It's where the change really comes from. It's how I quit drinking. It's how I graduated from college. It's not pretty and I'm sure there are people out there who can tell you how to do it better or quicker or with greater style or accuracy. But it works. I know it works.
So here we are... another 'blog down and another day started. Admittedly, I slept 'til noon and I don't have time to ride my bike today because I have to go get ready for work now. But I did manage to eat and squeeze in a shower and a couple episodes of The Daily Show. Those other things are details that we can work on tomorrow. I think the trick is to focus on what's in front of you and what you can do with the opportunity you have and try to do something good for yourself. Even if it is only one thing. Even if it's small.
I guess we'll see how it goes from here. If you see a doughy white guy on a bike wearing the largest helmet you've ever seen, you'll know that some level of progress has been made. Just try not to laugh too much. He's doing the best he can.
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