Treading on Thin Vice

Mary and I finally joined a gym this week, now that we feel comfortable leaving Ari in a playroom for an hour. To be honest, I felt a little deceitful telling Noah about the cool place we were going and how he could play with other kids. Throughout my life I've gone through periods of overdoing things like tv, video games, food and other mostly tame vices. Exercise is my latest insatiable craving.

I got my first taste (in a long time) about two months ago when I started playing basketball on Sunday nights. Never in my life have sore muscles felt so good, and I think I'm actually going to miss the feeling once my body is in shape again. My skills were rusty, but I made up for it with some gutsy defense and creative play making.

I have had varied relationships with the gym over the years, even though the literal experience has changed very little. As a young teenager I was excited to develop pro wrestler-sized muscles, checking myself out in the mirror between each set. I soon became embarrassed in front of the varsity athletes as I failed to move up to the all-important 45 pounders. Then in college I always had a few other things I felt like I should be doing instead. When I finally had more free time than anyone can imagine, living with two roommates and working 9-5, the gym routine had become mundane, and I was only trying to maintain my level of fitness and strength. Thus, an excuse or distraction was easily rationalized.

Although the playroom at our gym certainly isn't Disney World, Noah made some friends, and he displayed a reasonable level of satisfaction with the situation. He thought my muscle-building activities were pretty cool, and he pointed out all of the machines that he was gonna try.

We try to keep our self-focused activities to a minimum, but both Mary and I would admit that our entire family is better off if we treat ourselves a little bit. Sometimes when I feel like I can't take any more of Noah's antics, his behavior probably wouldn't sound utterly horrible to an observer; however, our state of mind, fatigue and health can easily swing our reactions from slightly annoyed to infuriated. As we sneak in a few seemingly simple treats every week, we will continue to balance our desires and our energy, responding to our young children's needs.

Maybe it's the surefire predictability of the activity or the forgotten memory of dripping sweat or the chance to actually accomplish a goal that I set, but the once loathed activity of the treadmill has now become a steadfast gateway to new heights. Or maybe it's just the music blaring out of the hip hop dance class. Either way, "I've got a feeling..."