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You are here: Home / Archives for exercise plan

Hanging Around Getting Fit

September 23, 2020 by Scott "Q" Marcus

There is confusion as to why the current pandemic’s virus is named “COVID-19.”

The CDC, on its website, explains, “In COVID-19, ‘CO’ stands for ‘corona,’ ‘VI’ for ‘virus,’ and ‘D’ for the disease.” “Nineteen” refers to the year the virus was discovered.

Not wishing to disagree with such an esteemed, well-respected, scientific organization but, in the same manner that the “Freshman 15” refers to the 15 pounds many first-time college students gain in their first year, the 19 in COVID-19 is, in reality, a reference to how much weight most of us gain while stuck in our abodes, gulping junk food, watching Netflix, and hoping to survive until 2021. After all, let’s be honest, if the apocalypse is nigh, does it really matter how many Twinkies I consume?

So, while commemorating “south of the border night” on my couch (a celebration in which I engage several nights a week), consisting of an extra-large helping of nachos and a Margarita (or two), I had to unbuckle my belt and was therefore painfully confronted with the fact that I was becoming a tad “thick around the middle.”

“Nah, not me,” thought I. After all, everyone knows that calories consumed to medicate feelings of sadness or anxiety don’t add pounds. Clearly, my belt shrunk. Hefting myself from the sofa like a nine-month pregnant woman struggling to rise, I waddled to the scale, only to be alarmed at the number flashing before me.

“NO! Can’t be,” said I, putting down the bean dip and wiping the melted cheese from my face, “Time for a new scale.”

“Honey,” I called out, seeking confirmation that I remained as svelte as a 27-year-old fitness trainer, “Am I putting on weight?”

<crickets>

“Honey? Did you hear me?” I bellowed again from the bathroom scale while contorting myself into various poses on the platform to lower the number. (None worked.)

From the kitchen, the garbage disposal activates, blasting forth an earsplitting racket; my wife shouting over the din, “Sorry dear, I can’t hear you. Talk to me later.”

Point taken.

Faced with an indisputable truth, I – being the motivator that I am – decided to immediately commence a plan to flatten my stomach. Eating fewer chips would be a good start, but I wasn’t quite “there” yet. Instead, opting to strengthen my arms and make flat my belly by pulling out timeworn exercise equipment stored in the back of the closet since the Carter administration. I lugged the “ab flattener” sit-up machine into the guest room, blew off the dust (coughed repeatedly), and located it in the center of the floor. Next, pushing aside old moth-ridden blankets, and beyond the tchotchkes in boxes, I yanked loose my ancient pull-up bar, secured it to the door jamb, and gave it a yank or two to ensure it could support my now-heftier bulk.

“Okay,” said I to myself, picturing six-pack abs within the week. “What is my strategy?”

[Read more…]

Filed Under: Baby Boomers, Diet, Exercise, goals, Health, humor, Newspaper Column, Overcoming Obstacles, planning Tagged With: changing habits, comfort food, covid 19, diet, exercise plan, humor

My Dog Doesn’t Understand Why We’re Jogging

September 5, 2012 by Scott "Q" Marcus

Fret not; that thumping, rhythmic, heavy pulsing sound behind you is not the noise of Heaven and Earth colliding.

Rather, ‘tis the pounding of my sneakers as they hit the pavement while I jog. Yes, you read that correctly. I am now jogging. (Well, not this minute of course; it’s difficult to type while running.)

I had more excuses than a double bacon cheeseburger has calories to avoid huffing and puffing down the street. They ran the gamut from “I might pass out,” to “I’ll look silly.” (Of course the latter pre-supposes that I don’t naturally look “silly,” which might be up for debate.) Yet, recently, my walks have — at times — become my jogs.

What pray tell, you might ask, has caused this transformation on par with the changing of the earth’s axis?

I am the recipient of a neat-o, boss, whiz-bang, plaything that plugs into my computer called an accelerometer. As I understand, an accelerometer “knows” where it is in space. Don’t get me wrong, it doesn’t know it is in Eureka or Portland, but it is able to discern when it moves from one location to another, and at what velocity. Therefore, while it is on my person; should I go to and fro, hither and yon, nigh and far, or up and down; it measures that movement and speed. After an initial multi-day “assessment,” it computes my baseline activity level and sets up a 12-week challenge, gradually increasing my activity level. The result is I become more active, and hence, healthier — and hopefully thinner.

Each evening (as well as an obsessive number of times per day), I place it still on a flat surface to watch the ring of green LEDs glow. Should at least four of the six do so, I’m at 100% of my daily goal. Oh happy day! On the contrary, should I receive less than four, I better get moving.

At day’s end, I realized I forgot to check my progress.

[Read more…]

Filed Under: Excuses, Exercise, humor, Newspaper Column Tagged With: accelerometer, activity, exercise, exercise plan, jogging, running, Weight Watchers Active Link

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