It’s not about losing weight. It isn’t really about how i look. In general, i say “i am working to be as healthy and fit as i possibly can, to allow me to enjoy life and blah fucking blah diddley blahblahblah…” But that’s kinda like… ummm…. bullshit.
Met with a fitness coach earlier this week. She asked my goals. i explained that little encounter with the cancer thing, and my choice to skip the hormonal chemo – better approach in my case was to reduce body fat. We talked about my fitness habits, types of exercise i enjoy, and the types i despise..
A fast-talker from New York, she and i covered a lot of turf in a very short period of time. Through the discussion, we finally converged on what it really is for me.
i have made a choice to live on my own. For now? Forever? Who knows. But i’m flying solo. There is also this pesky penchant for independence. As in never asking for help – although a sincere offer of assistance is often accepted, i never want to count on it.
Given that my live-in companion is a large, smelly hound? Someone has to haul those 50 pound bags of dog chow from the car. And that someone will be me.
This part of the conversation with the fitness coach is when it all came together for her. “Functional strength. That’s what you need.” She then prescribed a workout plan (with some suggestions on my approach to nutrition*). We’ll follow up in a few months and see how it’s going. i like her. She cut through the bullshit fairly quickly.
Build the muscles you need to live your life. Can’t think of a better reason to do it**.
* Diet Coke and SweeTarts are NOT breakfast. Muscle is not built on simple or complex carbs – drop the popcorn, add fish and eggs. Gotcha…
** Except for winning bar bets. When that pic was taken (Christmas), i could drop and give you 45 push ups – on my toes – without stopping. Working back up to that. And a few more…