December 13th, 2010

Kero asleep

How Recursive Can You Get?

Dreaming that I'm trying tell various people about a dream I had. Oy. And while an episode of West Wing where President Candace Bergen shoots Secretary of State Sandy Duncan (but only because she {Sandy} was threatening her {Candace} with a gun of her {Sandy's} own) is a vaguely amusing idea, following people around telling them about it in great detail when it's obvious that they really don't want to hear about it just isn't my usual style.

laurie_robey was vaguely interested but was too busy selling leather goods. kylet was not only not interested but started enlisting other people to talk to so I wouldn't tell him about it any more. kevinjdog wasn't there, but would have been interested if he was. In fact when he heard about it, he got so outraged that it blew a hole in my monitor. His opinion seems to be that Candace Bergen was the worst thing that ever happened to that show.

I wonder about my brain sometimes.

-The Gneech

PS: This all falls under the heading of "dreams that try to trick me into thinking I'm already awake," which is a kind I have frustratingly often. It's my brain's way of sneaking a little more sleep.
Leonard machismo

Speaking of Beef...

Hello, muscles! I remember you guys.

You may recall that a little post-AC prodding from mammallamadevil prompted laurie_robey and I to sign up at the local Sport & Health. I'll be the first to admit that our attendance has been on the spotty side. Not totally nonexistent — I'd say we've averaged about a visit a week in the intervening time — but spotty enough that we haven't been getting the full potential benefits of it. And aside from a good deal of swimming early on, when we have gone, I have often not had the oomph in me to do more than get on a bike machine and pedal for half an hour.

Last week, I resolved to correct this, and headed for the weight machines. My plans were then of course knocked for a loop by parental privilege, but we're still pushing for it. So tonight was my second go-around on the weight machines.

As some of you may know, I was for quite some time a big ol' Bowflex fan. In fact, I "used up" an original-series Bowflex Ultimate to the point where I couldn't actually use the needed resistance for a workout because I just ended up lifting the entire machine off the floor. So I then replaced it with a Bowflex Revolution, which I frankly hate and consider to be $2500 wasted. The B.R. is still sitting in the back of the house, in a room it can barely squeeze into, never used because it's such a pain in the hinder.

So, my body is used to this stuff, and has missed it. But my body is also over forty years old now, and for men that's an issue. Starting around now male DNA comes to the conclusion that if you haven't had kids yet you're not likely to, and so all you're doing is taking up space, and starts trying to kill you. One of the ways it does this is by making it harder to build and maintain muscle. It's not a problem for me yet, but who know when it will start to be.

So really, I can't keep doing this "on-again, off-again" routine and expect my body to snap back into it. Consistency is the only thing that will allow me to even stave off weakening, much less build any new strength. And it's also the only thing that will keep my lower back from eventually snapping like a twig, which is something I very much want to avoid.

As inconvenient as the trips over to my parents' house have been, they do at least provide me with a valuable object lesson. My mom thinks a small grocery bag is ponderously heavy. My dad can't walk. I don't want to end up in either of these conditions. Granted we've all got to go sometime, but when the day comes, I'd much rather be like my Aunt Iris, who was sharp, spry, active, and alert and just suddenly had her heart stop on the way back in from taking out the trash. No long slide into incapacity for me, please.

-The Gneech