Day One: Excuse Making

As one might have expected, I didn't want to start today.

I work on a garbage truck in southeastern corner of Indiana. I drive (read: hunt down addresses on tiny county roads and busy subdivisions) and tip (read: pick up trash cans and empty their contents into the aforementioned truck), which as you might guess ranks somewhere between considerable and notorious on the much-debated scale of physical labor.

For anyone not living in the United States at the moment, it's really hot right now. No, seriously. It's not as hot as it has ever been, but here in the Ohio river valley we've had a solid week of mid-ninety degrees Fahrenheit. That means everything has dried up and all the humidity is in the air and not in the ground or the lakes or wherever humidity is meant to dwell, and the pavement and metal and trash cans are all radiating with their absorbed sun-fury. It's like the angry heat of the sun is transforming everything into its wrathful likeness.

Anywho.

When I got home today, I was tired. And I immediately realized one of the big reasons I have not exercised in a serious way for, oh, about five years now.

IT'S TIRING AND I HAVE A JOB, DAMMIT.

Everyone who has kids and is in college in addition to working a full-time job is laughing at me. But shush, you. This is my blog and I'm being narcissistic about my life and troubles. Away with you!

Moreover, I'd consider myself semi-pro at rationalizing. Not being rational in a real way, but you know- purposefully twisting my angle of reality with a sweet lullaby of excuses as I choose the path of least resistance and effort. I'm really good at that.

So before I was even through the front door, I was all, "Jeez it's stupid hot today. I'm so tired. I don't wanna be out there anymore."

As I was closing the door behind me it was all, "Truthfully, I lifted a cumulative 4.5 tons of trash. Now that's a workout most people don't get."

Huey is there, jumping up to greet me with his happy pit-mix face. And I'm thinking, "I'm really in decent shape, and I played a game last night. Rest is really important if you're exercising. I should rest today."

But then, as I come into the kitchen, Aberlyn is in the downstairs bathroom with a paint roller, working away. In the past couple days she's been transforming that long-closet of a space. She's stripped off the ghastly wallpaper, puttied and sanded all the chips and dents, patched all the holes the wallpaper was hiding, and now this; painting away. She just got back from work, too, and there she is- white paint flecked on her face.

Aberlyn is the reason our house looks good. Because she cares, and she's always doing what she cares about in her life. It's a little crazy to be around if you're like me and motivated primarily by external approval. Because from my side, I'm constantly saying, "That's fine, you're fine, I'm fine, it's all fine! No worries!" Which she seriously appreciates. But when she wants to do something, it's done. Because she's self-motivated, whether or not someone else specifically cares about what she's doing.

Excuses are like pornography, I realize. They appeal to my weakness. I want to accept them for that same reason, because they say it's okay to just slack and not try and not grow and not seek new heights. They are comfortable and easy and numbing to the pain of failure.

They are going to keep me exactly in one place for the rest of my life if I listen to them. I will never be fast, free, and strong like I was born to be if I give into that false, empty promise.

How many more days do I want to be stuck here, on a plateau of cheap excuses?

So. I kissed my wife, rinsed off the trash grime, got my new soccer ball and went outside.

The Fatigue:
15 minutes of touches on the ball
[this was a lot harder than I thought it would be when I decided fifteen minutes sounded like a practical number. I'd forgotten how much fast-twitch muscle all of the fakes and movement and juggling take, especially when done without pause. I was sweating like crazy and breathing hard by the ten minute mark. Huey made things interesting by constantly trying to steal the ball, which ended up making him an excellent defender. I will definitely employ him in the future.]
5 minutes on the jump rope
[I got this jump rope out of the trash. It's got weighted handles, two pounds each. Again, I thought five minutes was a practical number. Dear God. By the end I was tripping constantly and wanted to stop so bad. I wasn't sweating so much as weeping in torrents with my whole body. Checked weather.com when I came inside, and it was ninety-four degrees out there.]
20 sit-ups, x2 sets
[these may seem a little out of place, but the motive came directly because those welt lines from last night are still clearly emblazoned on my gut in nice, hexagonal patterns. I do not want that to happen again. Besides, these are good for my job, too. I'm sad to say this was the most I could do. I'm really careful with form on these and mindful to lift myself only with my abdominals without curving my spine.]

There it is. Day one. I'm gonna get some stretching done. Maybe eat some protein or something.

Thanks for reading. The support has been surprising and encouraging. More complaining and narcissism tomorrow, I promise.

Indefatigable. Let's go.