Stacy Was Right

In May 2021, I took the advice of my fictional editor and chose not to write a post concerning this topic. Now here we are in 2022, and this time I’ve decided to ignore the guidance of Stacy B. You have my most insincere apologies — Management.

In July of 2019, I started back to the gym for what I referred to here as “Operation Pec-Lift.” OPL was my code for lifting heavy things for no reason. I had just turned 48 years old and wanted to re-start strength training for my bones, overall health, and of course, to deflabafy¹ my arms, pecs, and flaccid white man ass.

It was the first time I had been in a gym for a few years, but I was digging it and found myself there 4 times a week for roughly 9 months. And while I wasn’t riding my bike that much due to simply not wanting to, I was stronger and in better shape than I had been in for a while. Then the pandemic hit, and the gyms shut down for a while. And when they re-opened, there were mask regulations, social distancing, and overall COVID weirdness. I opted out until things normaled up a tiny bit.

Once I was fully vaccinated, and masks became a little more “optional” for jabbed folks²in indoor spaces, I returned to the gym in May 2021 to start Operation Pec-Lift II. I have nothing against wearing a mask when required, but while working out seems a bit ridiculous, and less than half the people wore them anyway, and it further pushed that weird “us vs. them” vibe that has permeated the United States since 2018 and worsened with the pandemic. So, in the end, it was just easier to stay at home and avoid any mask-wearing Michigan-based COVID Karens or conspiracy theory MAGA-tards looking to harsh my workout vibe. 

I tried my best to motivate myself to get down to the Not So Stankment and use my limited collection of weights, run on the Dreadmill, and spend more time on the bike. But sadly, I was only motivated about 1.3% of the time for weights and about 39.9% for the Dreadmill. With a whopping 41.2% reserved for doing nothing at all or walking around the woods with my camera convincing myself that I was “working out.”³.

I missed the routine of going to the gym; I missed properly working Dreadmills and weight machines; I missed feeling sore and pushing myself, and to be honest, I missed people. And I don’t know if I even like people!! I also lost a bunch of muscle mass over the past year, and I want my body to look a bit less like a fat, flaccid, melted flesh candle during sexy time with Wifey.

So I went back yet again on Tuesday and started Operation Pec-Lift III⁴.

Yes, I went back, and I’m stoked that I did. Things felt way more normal then back in May, and I felt in a good headspace about being there. And if you’ve followed the blog over the past 6 months, you know that me and the phrase “in a good headspace” don’t usually go together. 

Now, as I sit here regrettably typing this dross, vurping up my morning eggs and coffee, my pecs have that “just milked a bear cub” feeling, my arms are heavy and tired, and my legs occasionally feel the 3-miles of Dreadmill lumbering I did. It feels sort of good, like I did something. Even though all I did was finally have the mental energy to get in my car and drive to the gym to do a workout. Silly, isn’t it?

The outside world is still frozen solid, and B is off school due to yesterday’s all-day rain/ice storm and falling temperatures. I’ve yet to formulate today’s plan, but I’m hoping to at some point get some Dreadmill time and leg day activities in.

The downside to my time in the gym is that any posts I write lack photos. Sure, people take “gym selfies” and make corny motivational memes to post on Instagram all the time, but I am not a 24-year-old woman with the word “fit” in my IG name, advertising my “coaching” and handing out protein bar coupon codes; I am a sweaty, obese, 50-year-old white man and would look like a total creeper taking photos in a gym⁵. With that said, today’s photos were taken around the Cul-De-Sac Shack during yesterday’s ice storm, plus an extra one of Lola basking in the sun on Sunday, which now feels like a dark gray eternity ago.

Later.

NOTE: This post has been edited for a spelling mistake in the first paragraph roughly 24+ hours after posting. OK-ish/good enough spelling and grammar comes sooner or later. But usually not at all.

1. I made that word up.
2. AKA people who strapped on their big girl panties in an effort to slow down COVID, ease the burden on hospitals, and get back to normal and didn’t use not getting one as some sort of pointless political stance that only served to endanger themselves and those around them.
3. For what it’s worth, those statistics are completely fabricated.
4. Insert “For Fuck’s Sake” emoji here
5. However, if you are interested in my coaching services, hit me up with a DM. I can help you become the depressed, overweight, beer-loving slacker you’ve always dreamed of becoming! Also, you can save 3% on your next order of my go-to protein bars by using the code SOILEDAF at checkout.