07-039
This
is not working out
We are a nation of fat people. We eat too much,
exercise too little and don't care about it. We, the very hefty people of the
United States of America, are one nation under a God-awful amount of fat, indivisible
from our sofas with liberty and pancakes for all.
According to the Centers
for Disease Control, from 1976-1980 to 2003-2004, the number of overweight or
obese people has doubled for adults, and it's nearly tripled for children. I'm
part of that 30 percent, and they’re probably counting me as two people.
It wasn't always like this. I used to be a big
health nut. I ran for miles, lifted weights and ate very little. Then somewhere
along the way, I strangled the Jim Fixx inside me with a Slim Jim and traded
his lifeless corpse for a Corona.
So imagine my shock when a friend invited me to
join him at his gym. I had a mouthful of chocolate cookie in my trap when he
told me, so the response was deliciously ironic as well as garbled and messy.
I like to think I'm an active guy who likes to
play sports and go for walks and do things other than sit around even if I'm
not athletically fit, but straight exercise seemed more forced and boring than
a Coldplay song.
"They better have a decent bar," I told
him.
So off I went. It's been two years since I've set
foot in a gym, so clothing options were more limited than Sally Struthers at
the Gap. I slapped on a Homer Simpson tee that had sections of his brain mapped
out for "donuts," "sex" and "beer." My ever-expanding
gut made the "beer" and "donuts" portion three times bigger
and the "sex" portion twice as small.
I also couldn't find my old running shoes. I had
to settle for a cherry red pair of Chuck Taylor All-Stars. Add a pair of dorky
looking basketball shorts and I showed up looking like I was ready to play
basketball in 1957 for the Indiana Honkeys.
I stuck with the treadmill, the stairmaster and
the exercise bike. Despite their healthy sounding names, these are actually
harbingers of confusion and destruction. They allow you to walk, climb and
pedal for miles without actually going anywhere. You've walked two miles but
the scenery hasn't changed and you're in the same spot when you started.
This is why we have a drug problem in this
country because the hallucinations drugs cause make more sense than the
activities that make us healthier. Sure there's a leprechaun punching a
unicorn, but at least there's enough context to help you realize the leprechaun
is doing it to protect his Razzleberry Pop Tarts.
By the end of it, I
worked up a good sweat, my muscles beamed with strength and my energy actually
felt like it had kicked up a couple of notches.
In other words, I
thought I was going to die.