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Dude, the only thing I don't like about articles like this one is that I didn't read it before I did my morning ab workout. I knew I should have gone straight to the couch with a bag of potato chips and the laptop rather than onto my back on the hard, cold floor with a glass of water.
Speaking of potato chips, I do think I'll have myself another handful now. Hell, and another beer while I'm at it. If I weren't a vegetarian, I might even grill up a nice fat Italian sausage to go with that...and then wrap it in some bacon before I ate it.
Mmm.
And then, for dessert I'd have a stent with a side of bypass surgery.
Seriously, who are they kidding? Men started caring about their figures because they wanted to score some chicks? OK, that's always on our minds. We are guys, after all.
Often when I think about how easy it would be to take the bus to work rather than ride my bike, I remember that I don't want to be that guy with the Cheetos crumbs on my chin, taking up two seats with my double-wide ass as I drink down my McFatty Carmel Chocolate Whipped Cream Latte. While doing that may give Mama more of me to love, she'd certainly have fewer reasons to love me.
Further, if that's what I became, how would I ever throw my son up to the ceiling or the stars whenever he wanted to fly? How would I run in circles with him at the end of the street or on the playground? How would I let him--and his five friends--climb up me and use me as a jungle gym?
So I put my water bottle into the cage on my bike, pull on my spandex, which was apparently created by a color blind man with nothing but scraps of clown costumes to work from, and ride out into the day.
Inevitably, as I encounter the first car driving along my ride, I remember the real reason I do this: I don't want to die. (If you don't associate cars with thoughts of death, you've clearly never ridden your bike on city streets.)
Looking hot--OK, as hot as a hirsute, graying, 40-year-old such as myself can--is a great benefit, providing lots of warmth on cold winter nights. However, when I was very young someone disabused me of my notion that I would grow up to be immortal, and since then I've been working to improve my odds of seeing the far side of 60 or 70 or 80 or even 90.
See, my dad died when I was 16. He was 57. That really puts the zap on my head. It woke me up and made me realize that this dance ain't going to last forever--unlike that one time in high school when you were stuck on the gym floor hanging onto that one girl with the big hair and the leg warmers while Stairway to Heaven kept skipping back to the beginning.
Now, I don't know about the death of the metrosexual. As you can tell by my scrufty graying beard, I haven't really kept up with all of that. You'd have to ask an expert on the topic to comment on that.
But I do know this--I'll be back on the cold, hard floor tomorrow morning, and every morning until I can't anymore. I'll do it for Mama, I'll do it so I can make my son fly any time he wants to, and I'll do it because I refuse to go flabby into this good night.
Image: mikebaird via Flickr.
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written by Guns1306, August 18, 2009
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written by Teacher Tom, August 18, 2009
Haven't seen a pic of him lately, but I don't think he's succeeded.
My motivation to exercise is that I like to drink beer and the older I get the more I have to do to earn that cold one. I gave up on chicks when they started calling me "sir."
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written by betty, August 18, 2009
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written by PC Nena, August 18, 2009
@ Papa can you please do a few extra crunches for me? I wish I was in that mind set all the time. It comes and goes for me....I am working on that...[pushes away my mountain dew]
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written by Spiny Norman, August 18, 2009
I really need to take this post to heart...
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written by Jason, August 19, 2009
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written by GBDaddy, August 19, 2009
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written by SurprisedMom, August 20, 2009
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written by jeskates, August 21, 2009
I like to stay healthy and it makes me feel better about myself..
however, no I don't think however...
I'd rather not end up with a potbelly.
Is that my future?
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