The Comeback Kid

Comeback Kid. At 52 maybe Kid isn’t the right word. Geezer? Too harsh. Adult? Too formal and too far from the truth. :) Let’s just say that I am between diapers and depends…though a little closer to the latter. Age doesn’t freak me out because my mind has enough to keep track of without having to worry about a number. Did I blow out the candle? Close the garage door? Company is coming over, are the toilets flushed? All much more critical – wouldn’t you agree?

Having been out of commission (see previous blog) for a couple months I had been looking forward to starting up my workouts. In my mind I was already winning races and busting out some powerful pecs. That’s right ladies, powerful pecs. “Hey, have you seen Michael lately?” “Yes, I have and oh my gosh he’s ripped.” “There he is, get out of my way”. “No you get out of the way bit*h”. Fighting ensues. I have such a happy place don’t I? I found that it hasn’t been quite that easy. My weight is my enemy, running is lacking, and workouts are a struggle. I will break down each one.

Weight. I have gained 9 pounds. Don’t roll your eyes. 9 pounds is a lot for me. Some lucky souls have weight gain travel to better places. Boobs for instance. Two of my friends gained weight and 90% of it ended up there. They complained, I didn’t. In fact I gave them more ice cream. My weight gain is old school, dead center in the belly. I have a muffin top. When someone tells me my shoe is untied, I tell them I like it that way. I refuse to stand on the scale until I have pooped. For a week I ate salad. No change. I like candy and chips. I now like ice cream too….

Running. Holy heck, where did my cardio go? I’m putting it on milk cartons - “Disappeared in 2011. If found call 1-800-HeavyB.” The elliptical machine kicks my butt. Tried the treadmill and forgot how boring it was. It didn’t help to have a 90 year old Chinese woman knitting a scarf next to me knocking out a faster pace. Trail running has been a blessing. If I’m too slow getting back I simply tell everyone that I got lost. With my sense of direction that truth-bender is believable. I am no longer fast and my endurance limited.

Workouts. I was a bodybuilder once. Maybe I should just leave it with that - it’ll leave a better picture in your head. Today I struggle with minimal weight and sometimes count by two’s on my way to 10 reps. Tank tops have been replaced by baggy shirts. I go to core class and my abs hurt after 5 reps. Scratch that, I meant my ab hurt. I have a one pack.

There is a benefit to all this – chicks don’t talk to me as much. Thank God, I can finally get something done. I mean really, texts, phone calls, emails, standing out by my car waiting for me – what a burden I carried. Having said all that, I am working my way back. I lost a pound – that’s 11% of my goal (happy place). I have shown self control and limit my eating in the evening – brushing my teeth early helps a lot. Workouts are coming along. Strength is slowly coming back. Looking in the mirror with the light just dim enough I am beginning to look good in my mind. Running is a long journey back if I want to avoid injury. My 4 minute walk, 6 minute run has dropped to 3/7, 2/8, and today I walked one minute and ran 9 for an hour – managed 5.5 miles and though taxed, my recovery was swifter than the week prior. Increased intensity will burn more calories and my weight will move in the right direction. I am planning on my first Duathlon in June. A 5k, 15 mile bike, followed by another 5k. Having a goal will give direction and purpose to my workouts. This may not be a comeback after all. It may simply be a new chapter for an aging athlete. What am I saying? It’s a frickin comeback – nobody is aging around here. Look out baby, Mr Chubby is going to be history – save your laundry, these abs will be washboards soon enough. By the way, I have some ice cream for you….