Workout Wednesday (5/27/20)

This kind of post will not have pictures for a long time.

Hi, my name is Arthur. At about age twenty, my metabolism started to slow, and through my twenties, I continually thought, “Well, I should take better care of my body,” which led to things like gym memberships I used once, swimming jags, and of course, deciding to eat healthily, buying a ton of vegetables and lean meats, and forgetting to plan or avoiding the work of cooking or making excuses, blah blah blah. I’d go on pretty good streaks, every now and again; but ultimately, I began accustomed to the weight that came on and just stayed.

Now, I should note a few things before I continue:

  1. There’s no such thing as a beach body, unless your body happens to be at a beach. That is to say, standards for physical appearance are absolutely cultural; I think there’s something to the idea of fitness at any size. And ultimately: you do you. Your body is not mine to police, legislate, judge or condemn.
  2. I am doing this for me, not for anyone else. I really do enjoy exercising. I had an awakening a few years ago when someone told me the atoms that composed me were on loan from God, and at that point, I stopped hating the meat and started loving it instead. And while I like the sentiment of that C.S. Lewis quote, “We are not bodies with souls; we are souls with bodies,” (did I rephrase?), we are souls and bodies. And spirits and minds. We’re complex, weird, carbon-based humans becoming, and when we started splitting things up and putting them into compartments, life lost a little luster.

Okay. So, I’m walking. Every day, at least a mile and a half. I attempt to get to ten thousand steps, but I don’t, always. Not yet. And I am already feeling better; I am already, after only a few weeks, seeing results on the scale. That and diet–nothing extreme, even; counting calories and not eating total garbage all the time. That’s it.

The workout is simple: walk for a mile and a half. I take the dogs on a cloverleaf, around four blocks. When B and I walk, it’s two miles, back and forth for two and a half blocks on three different streets. That’s it. That’s the workout.

I have plans, of course–I always, always have plans–but I’ll only talk about them if I actually do anything with them.

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