creeping sloth

sloths_fun_bizzare_oddities_weird_cool_200907301641424508I got drunk and joined a gym last night and it’s Robert Louis Stevenson’s fault.

I guess that deserves an explaination…I’ve spent the last few days glued to the computer trying to finish all the content on the new website, ..sitting in front of the computer is pretty much how i have spent the last 18 months…NOT on my bike, NOT out in my boat..just sitting and typing with the added bonus of getting up now and then to recycle some tea and cleaning litter boxes. My usual accompaniment is a good audio book – the most recent being J Martin Troost’s Headhunters on my Doorstep, in which he weaves his personal story of getting sober with revisiting a string of South Pacific Islands in the paddle prints of Robert Louis Stevenson. Headhunter,s like Troosts earlier works, is thoroughly enjoyable and will easily be something I revisit. As many reformed addicts sometimes do, Troost took up an addiction to running to replace his addition to drink, so the tales of beautiful island scenery are punctuated by descriptions of Troost running up or down atolls.

All well and good, but as I struggled and fussed with the really bad refresh rate on the beta test ISP, I indulged in some homemade guacamole and a take away quesadilla and a very tall daiquiri. So I wasn’t exactly DRUNK per se…i probably have one drink a week and I am of a substantive size that it almost amounts of a waste of good rum, but we can agree that my judgement was a little impaired. Among my adventures last night I spent about 30 minutes pulling great bags of garbage OUT of the dumpster and down to the curbside, including all the recycling from around the property. Creating a void IN the dumpster, allowed me to finally empty two barrels of my household trash and spent litter INTO the dumpster. The theory being it will all get taken away this morning. (YES, I know i SOLD the place, but I hate an overloaded dumpster. so I tend to keep the place clean.)

Thirty minutes of me huffing and puffing myself up and down the hillside reminded me that I can’t exactly WAIT until I relocate to get my shit together. One of the reasons I WANT a house that is near enough to walk to places, is so that i will WALK TO PLACES, Here I can walk but it’s all fucking hills which sucks on my arches and there’s not PLACE to walk to. I logged into the website for the gym down the block and found they were having a $10 a month sale, and were open 24/7. Lucky me, I don’t sleep at night anyway. Of course by then I had sweated out all the very nice rum, I pulled out shoes with arch supports, some ear buds, and made sure my kindle had at least 3 audiobooks to choose from. I joined the gym at about 9:30 and then walked two miles on a treadmill…i would have walked further and longer, but i felt that I should stop before I overheated, passed out and someone would try to drag me back to the ocean.

Big surprise, I am heavy and out of shape, I wasn’t always this way, the weight has crept up on me…though as long as it was just tagging along behind and my clothes still fit, I didn’t worry about it too much. When I had outside money coming in, I felt free enough to throw my bike in the truck and go for a ride in the country, at least every other day or so. Same with the boat, as long as I got all my work done and kept the bills paid, taking a couple of hours to row myself fit, wasn’t much of a chore, it was fun. Once things got VERY hard, I mean harder than ever before…every minute i spent NOT working had a big guilty weight attached to it. I worried more and more, and i rode and rowed less and less, figuring once I moved I would make a reason to stop being such a sloth.

There I was fussing with the pokey little computer, trying to WILL it to work faster, so i could be DONE sooner…and hearing Troost’s words about the highs of running..realizing I have never actually RUN anywhere not unless someone was dying, which has happened. Even as a gift, I would never visit the south seas, I abhor beaches and all the things that accompany it: sunlight, surf, sand, sweat. I have become a fat little hobbit in my hobbity hole, with a packed larder and all the comforts of home. Why would I leave? But then i glimpse the person and a half who is walking around in my clothes and realize that of all the things I am not happy about, THAT is at least something I can fix.

Gyms as a whole have no appeal for me, i can’t think of ANY place more boring to spend hours of your life. I would rather BE ON MY BIKE, or on the river or even walking with a camera in my hand…. but right now i would be more of a road hazard than anything. I need to treadmill past the huffing and puffing stage so I can enjoy going outdoors, instead of planning to go into cardiac arrest in public. But the 24/7 thing appeals to me…I really don’t want to run into anyone I know…but I needn’t have worried.. fat folk are basically invisible in such places, and for the most part everyone keeps to themselves with focuses on their personal task at hand..kinda like a men’s room.

Joining is one thing, going is something else…another day spent fighting with the computer and I am just bored enough to get off my ass and walk about couple of miles. I have some Carl Hiaasen on the kindle.

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