Gym

Speaking of self-confidence, I paid for a gym membership yesterday. I’ve done this before, maybe eight or nine times over the past many years. I never quite get my money’s worth. Sometimes I’ll even pay months and months of fees just for the knowledge that I potentially could go the gym. This is king of like how my bike purchase has turned out.

And I even have a decent free gym at work. But it’s completely unrealistic to expect that, after 20 years of not being a morning person, I suddenly will become one. It’s not open late. It’s not open on weekends. And I’m still at work. So I’ve paid for a gym membership. I shall go. I shall go and stay for more than 20 minutes. And I shall not use going to the gym as an excuse to eat Randy’s Pizza twice a week.

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Baseline 2

Starting last Tuesday and continuing indefinitely, every Tuesday and Thursday (my non-dialysis days) will include at least one of the following activities:

Swing dancing

Gym @work

This seems like a simple plan to get moving and do something I enjoy. It’s anything but. How I get through a five-day work week now with 12 hours of dialysis screwing up three of the five days is beyond me. Some weeks, I simply don’t. And for this reason, I’ll never save up a week of vacation days to go on a much-needed extended trip. My new activities could energize me to the point of making the rest of the week a breeze. Or they could exhaust me to the point of collapse.

We’ll see.

Like Red says, Get busy living, or get busy dying.

Why that picture? It’s Florence Henderson, and she’s lovely, so STFU.