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Hey Oprah!  What sort of fitness regimen are you doing these days?  How much are you loving it?  (Silence…)  That much, eh?  Even though I don’t hear you, I hear ya.  Greg and I decided that it was “Come to Jesus” time.  I don’t know how long it will last before we revert to our pagan ways, but, we pulled all the exercise equipment out of storage.  By storage, I mean, we drove to my Auntie Donut’s condo and took back treadmill that she was storing (supposed to be using) because we had no place for it when we had our second kid.  But somehow, miraculously, we are going to grow the space for it now, before we both die of inactivity.  We also pulled the 20-year-old weight bench down from the storage piece in the garage along, with all of its attachments.  Greg had it when we met, and even though it has not been in use for 21 of the 20 years we have been together, he wouldn’t get rid of it.  Right now, at this moment, hypothetically, it’s a good thing.

Both of us have been realizing that our bodies hurt frequently and tire quickly with increasing momentum as we speed by more birthdays.  Also, I sweat like someone sprayed by head with a hose pretty much as soon as I raise my arms to do anything.  I don’t know if that’s my weight, menopause, or simply god’s cruel joke, but I HATE it!  I wish I could get a brace that mounts around my torso and sticks out in front of me about 18” holding an industrial fan constantly blowing on my face when I can’t be in my car with the AC on.  I suppose that would make anything requiring the use of my hands pretty hard to do, though.  So this exercise plan was partly intended to force copious amounts of sweat out of my noggin so that there wouldn’t be any left when I needed to mildly exert myself in front of clients and friends.  Surely there is a finite amount of perspiration in a person’s body, if I can just get rid of mine during exercise; it might save me some embarrassment.  We’ll see…

Greg’s reasons are, “Oh crap!  When did I get old?  I just got out of my recliner and hurt my knee!  I better try to get in shape—I got something to prove!”  He practically killed himself the first day trying to lift weight he did 20 years ago.  I think he was subconsciously going for an injury so that we could end this stupid little exercise plan before it got started.  But, alas, he is tougher that we thought…damn.

We put the weights in the garage, and do our work-outs together every other evening for about 15 minutes before we have to call an ambulance.  The treadmill got stuffed in our home office.  It has pretty much rendered the closet in that room inaccessible except for when we fold the machine up.  Then we can get to half of it.  Not ideal, since my house is limited on storage space.  Anyway, we rotate days between weights and cardio.

The other day my dad was over and told Greg that if he really wanted to be impressive he would set up a system to watch movies and shows via projector on the wall; thinking Greg would just laugh because that kind of luxury was for rich people.  Well, he obviously doesn’t know Greg! We have a projector that connects to a laptop so that I can trace outlines of some of my compositions when I draw or paint.  Jeez!  Walking on the treadmill could actually be fun?  Let’s not be ridiculous, but 40 minutes of staring a John Hamm in Mad Men made it marginally easier except for when my heart kept skipping beats!  It’s the best set up we have in the house for watching movies, and we (plan to) use it 30-40 minutes three days a week.  Let’s be honest, I didn’t get through the whole episode of Mad Men.  Even with that eye candy, I couldn’t talk myself into an extra 5 or 10 minutes.  Is there any hope for me?  Tune in next week when we return the treadmill to Auntie Donut’s and finally put the weight bench on the curb.  Or will we?…