A Little More Sun

Dearest Rachel –

It would seem that this morning exercise routine, reluctant though I am to follow it, is something of a self-perpetuating cycle. I put in some seven-plus miles on the treadmill yesterday, and by nine o’clock, I was as ready to fall asleep in my chair than actually bother with watching another video (and since the boys were watching their own stuff in the family room, it wasn’t as if I couldn’t just do so; who would notice?). Naturally, such an early bedtime sees me awake before dawn (again, whether I want to be or not), and still in some of the same clothes as I wore yesterday, making them serviceable as gym togs this morning. So, after wishing “Lee” another good day at work before she heads off to her office, I lounge around for a bit while I try to wake up before putting on the rest of my makeshift workout ensemble and heading up the few blocks to the gym.

So as you can see, I’m pretty much committed to going from the moment I wake – or, more accurately, from the moment I fall asleep the night before.

The thing is, despite being well into April already, it’s still only in the thirties. It would seem that Mother Nature isn’t particularly eager to get the whole ‘spring’ thing going yet, no unlike me trying to deal with getting started in the morning, but on an annual cycle instead of a daily one. Well, she’s been around a lot longer; maybe time just scales differently for her. Either way, it’s mildly reassuring to know that the forces of nature itself have trouble getting started now and again.

Or it would be reassuring, if it weren’t for the fact that this sluggish trend toward warming didn’t actually contribute to my own reticence in getting started today. The sun may be up – as indeed, it has been for an hour before I could finally bring myself to leave the house – for more hours in the day than not, but it doesn’t seem to be having that much effect as I make my way to the shopping plaza that houses the gym. Even with a minimal amount of wind and clouds, it’s a decidedly chilly walk that the sunlight doesn’t seem to be able to mitigate.

Some wise soul claimed that it is the journey that matters more than the destination, and when it comes to my workout, that’s not far wrong to an extent. Sure, the hour spent upon the treadmill can get onerous as I rachet up the speed and hang on tightly to the sensor bar, but it’s a fairly standard process (and it’s actually surprising that the time spent gets erased from my mind once it’s over with, like that drive between overpasses on Golf Road – it’s like those couple of miles don’t even exist once you emerge from the second one). Whatever I deal with there isn’t work commenting on to the same extent as what I deal with outside between house and gym.

That goes for both parts of the trip, too. As I leave, the shopping plaza decides to tease me one last time in parting. It so happens that there’s a Mexican restaurant right next door to the gym (I think when you were still here, the location had hosted a series of Italian eateries, with varying degrees of success, and an Indian restaurant came and went since you left. It’s been a problematic location for some time, you’ll recall). As with all such places, the kitchen is in the back, and there’s no escaping the scent of various dishes as they waft up through the stovepipe and fill the office parking lot as I make my way back. Between the workout and the aroma, you might be able to guess that I’m ravenously hungry – in both gut and mouth – by the time I get home. It’s a wonder that I’ve been able to keep the weight off that I’ve worked so hard to shed. The only place where this effect is even worse is just outside church on Saturday mornings – like at the gym, there’s a Mexican restaurant across the street, but also an Indian grocery. It makes me hungry for a curried beef burrito (or maybe a roti?) that no one makes around here; I should probably figure out how to make something like that for the gang, or at least the boys, some time.

But at least I’ve gotten it out of my way, and I can get on with the rest of my day, which I know won’t include nearly as much in the way of stress, strain and temptation. Nevertheless, honey, I’d appreciate it if you could still keep your eye on me, and wish me luck; I’m still going to need it.