Kickass Year Ahead
“I really should get off my fat arse and go running, right?”
“Goodness, you’re not supposed to say that. You’re supposed to say, ‘you’re not fat’.”
I peer out the window. It’s 6 in the morning and there’s a slight drizzle. I’ve been meaning to be more serious about getting into shape, especially since I’ve turned the corner age-wise, and can no longer rely on my metabolism to burn through the late night raids on the kingdom of Nutella. Doesn’t help that I nuked my thyroid gland, which is pretty much the metabolism mothership. It’s become an uphill battle getting the pounds away, and the last couple of years, I’ve been allowing the slow ebb of gravity to take me to places I don’t want to be.
I still play basketball weekly, but of late my crossovers haven’t been crossing anyone over; and my layups could be unintentionally blocked by any half decent basketball player scratching his head. The only ones affected by my lateral quickness have been my knees, and it’s not so much the miles I’m accrued on them as the extra baggage they’ve had to haul around while my mind thinks my body’s still 18 years old.
So…slight drizzle. 6am on Christmas morning. My Facebook wall is full of fitness freaks: Darren who’s determined to embarrass us all with his run times, Han who’s getting into shape by learning how to kill people with MMA, Shawn who reminds me that abs are best displayed without the thick layer of blubber, and Nick who pretends it’s all about tech, while he’s getting ripped.
I get up, put on a light jacket and head out in the rain. Every time I came to a shortcut, I reminded myself in the spirit of Christmas that Jesus took no shortcuts, and I would run the long way. It wasn’t a long run compared to the rest of the blokes I’ve been following on Facebook, but it’s a start.
When I started playing basketball at 13, I “planned” to dunk by 16, before I left Secondary school. When I didn’t get there, I thought that 2.5 years in the Army would help, but I never got higher than touching the rim. Right now, all I can do is touch the backboard, but barely. My goals, to be accomplished by Christmas 2013, now at age 35, will be to:
- Palm the backboard (1 handed)
- Palm the backboard with 2 hands
- Touch the rim with fingertips
- Grab the rim mid-palm
I’m not sure if I dare aim any higher than that, but clearing the rim with a full palm would really, really be something.
2013 will be a kickass year. And I’ll start by kicking my own into shape.