Losing Momentum in Fitness and Blogging

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It was exceptionally tough this morning, pedaling that stationary bike. I'd watch the display in front of me, the terrain scrolling towards me like some slow-motion version of Scramble. Random hills proceed across the screen, every once in a while, one reaches right to the top of the display, an absolute skyscraper to pedal over. Getting over these is a question of mind over matter, because the display scrolls every ten seconds anyway; it doesn't matter if I pedal harder or faster; it doesn't matter if I stop pedaling completely; I'll get over this hill. However, if I don't keep my momentum going, it won't do me any good. Why are things so tough for me this morning?

Because I didn't go to the gym yesterday. We took our first day off yesterday morning; we had lots of reasons, lots of justifications. We deserved it. We needed snuggles. J had a hairdresser's appointment. We had a couple of errands to run. We had to go see a friend in the hospital later that evening. We quite simply didn't feel like going, and we paid the penalty for it today. There's a discipline involved, particularly at this early stage. It doesn't matter how often I weigh myself, or measure my waist. At the moment the biggest difference I'm going to see is whether I get on the scales before or after I visit the toilet. I've got to keep focused, keep going, because if I don't keep going, then C won't keep going, and if C doesn't keep going, I won't end up going, either.

But I've got to get through today, get through this thirty minutes. I'm visualizing what's going on inside this machine, a machine full of flywheels and magnetic resistance and belts and pulleys and all sorts of other junk. I just have to keep it moving. I have to keep going. If I can do that, then I'll make it; and I have to make it, I owe it to myself to do so. Another skyscraper left behind; there's another on the distant horizon, approaching. Let's cross that one when I get to it. Let's keep this exercise routine going. There's no sense for one day to derail the whole thing. And I'll know about it; I'll ache all day today, I'll feel the strain just like I did the first day I came to the gym after all those days off before.

OK, now the evening comes, and the blogging rituals. I created me a page over the weekend, listing my routine, the order I should do things in, how best to stay focused, how to keep up with my reading lists, comment on friends' pages, get some views, check out some stats. I haven't written a post since Sunday; the difficult one, the anniversary post. It seems like I've lost subscribers. It seems like I've only had about three page views today. What's happening? I've lost momentum here, too. I haven't been keeping up with my posts. I wrote an opinion piece; those are always good for traffic; and then a personal piece; those are always very satisfying. But then, nothing at all. I took some time off over the last couple of days; I had lots of reasons, lots of justifications. Appointments and errands and lack of computer time and I quite simply didn't feel like it. There's a discipline involved, particularly at this early stage, and it doesn't matter how many times I look at my traffic stats they are not going to radically change unless I keep producing content. I've got to keep focused, keep going, because if I don't keep going, then the chances of C and I actually settling down to write our novel will be pretty slim.

So I've got to put up a post today, get through this case of not knowing what to write about. I just have to keep it moving. And I'll know about it; I'll ache for quite a while over this post, and I'll feel the strain just like I did when I first began these pages. Let's get moving again.

Getting serious about fitness... this time

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Whatever you do, don't tell my Mom. She'll have an apoplexy. I've just purchased a gym membership. For the two of us, of course. There's no way I'd be going to the gym alone, and a big part of the reason why I'm there is moral support for C, as well. So far, it's not doing too badly. We've been there three days in a row. This is the biggest commitment to fitness I've made in my entire life.

The two of us have known each other for quite a while now, and seen each other in quite a selection of states of fitness. I grimace when I think of the first photograph C ever saw of me. I was packing on the pounds quite ridiculously back then, with a kisser that was more reminiscent of Alfred Hitchcock than anyone else. I managed, not through design, but through the sheer stress of living, to shed a little bit here and there. By the time C and I met, I was one pants size down from that; by the time I moved out to California, well, better make that two. A few months of sustenance living on bachelor chow while going through stressful situations will do that to you. Gleefully, I can remember not even bothering to pack my fat pants. I'd never need those again.

And then, well, California... joys such as that raspberry pudding at Phil's Fish Market that made our eyes roll into the back of our head, the fruits I'd never even heard of, let alone eaten (a pluot? What on earth is a pluot?), the wonderfully sweet produce that's all around us in this valley, and of course, that Central Coast region specialty, the tri-tip. I bragged at one point that I'd never had a poor meal all the time I'd been here. I think that still holds true. But all of this comes with a price. Those two sizes smaller pants that I delighted in getting myself in? Well, I can't get in them any more; the next size up is hardly comfortable, either. By rights I ought to be back in the fat pants size; and, once upon a time, I would have simply gone out and bought me some more that fit. Not this time. This time, we've got the mutual support system to get it right. It's in both of our best interests to make sure each other stays as healthy as possible.

We've done a couple of pair excursions on the stationary bikes before now; odd days, here and there, where our schedules permitted it. I remember, several months ago, promising to deliver the motivation for us to get each other going; to get each other exercising; to look after those recurring issues we each have with our knees, to provide strength as a partnership - to be a team. You know exactly where good intentions always end up leading. We did have plenty of fun; ironically, one of the big draws for these outings was the wonderful fish restaurant on our way home, and - yes! - I did finally experience the euphoria, the adrenalin rush of the aftermath of exercising, when I bit into a Subway tuna sandwich after exercising and discovered it was quite simply ambrosia, the nectar of the gods. We both felt better for it; we knew it, and we both knew we needed to keep it up, regularly continue to pursue it. There's a stationary bike in the family room; we can't of course both ride it at the same time, though, and that eliminates that competitiveness component that's possibly a huge amount of what pushes us both. You can't let me pedal further than you, because, well, you've been doing this exercising lark a lot longer than I have. And I can't let you pedal further than me, because, well, you're a girl.

So here we are, we've been to the gym three days a row, and hit those stationary bikes with the recumbent chairs. Thankfully. Those hard saddles on the uprights were the most uncomfortable things I'd ever felt, and they weren't a great motivator. The first day, the bike seemed too easy for me, so I pushed that level selector up. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. OK, now I'm feeling some resistance. No trouble, no difficulty, no sweat... of course, by that time I'd barely been going for sixty seconds. Twenty-five minutes or so later, it was quite a different matter, it was absolutely pouring out of me. The heart rate indicator was showing 151. The little picture on the side of the machine that shows where your heart rate should be puts 151 pretty much at the upper limit for cardio. Slow down, slow down. I wondered whether I'd make it to the end of the course; one more skyscraper-like peak of hard work appears on the screen showing the random course we'd selected, and then, after that... oh give thanks! The last couple of minutes are relatively flat and low-impact. I think I can do this, I know I can do this. Total distance covered - 10.80 miles? How did you do, darling?

Day Two wasn't as easy. I picked up where we left off, on Level Nine, and got myself quickly to that upper limit on the heart rate graph. I saw the way you were looking at me, this couldn't be good. Perhaps you should turn it down a notch. I turned it down to level 8, and my heart rate settled down again, just where it should be. There's no sense in over-exerting it; it's pretty obvious this thing is doing you some good, just feel all this stuff pouring out of you. I want to go a bit further today, let's make it 11 miles. Let's absorb all the numbers on this display in front of me into my mathematical brain, keep constantly recalculating how much harder I'm going to have to work to manage that, push it some more, push it some more. The flat bit of the course is in front of us, OK, I'm going to push it for this last two minutes, 10.78, 10.79, 10.80 miles again? You too?

Day Three. We said we weren't necessarily going to push it, but, you know what? I feel up to it this morning, let's go ahead and do it one more time. No, I don't think walking to the gym is a good idea today; let's drive it. I'm going to do it again, pick up where I left off, and push it, push it, push it, it can't possibly be that much extra effort to make eleven miles, I must be able to do it, I must be getting better at this.

10.80 miles again? You're kidding me.

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