Self Improvement

For reasons I cannot fully explain at present,  I have been little inclined to write for a while. Suffice it to say that I am a little blue these days.  Every day, however, comes with its own set of blessings, and today's was a rather encouraging one.

As I noted in my last post, during Lent, I began visiting a dietitian.  I saw her again today, and  can report that after seven weeks, I have lost twenty-six pounds, nearly four inches around the waist, and almost two around the hips.  This has happened primarily through a major change in diet; more vegetables more often and less pasta (in other words, none).  I find that this is a small price to pay for the benefits I am already enjoying.

Though diet itself will help a great deal, I am told that I need to include an exercise regimen into my lifestyle.  I am encouraged to find something that I like to do, which is easy enough except that the things I like to do don't really lend themselves to everyday engagement.  For instance, while I sometimes walk great distances in giving chase to the wiley pheasant, I am only allowed to do this a limited number of times between the months of October and January.  Likewise, I am willing to walk some distance to do battle with the elusive trout, but my schedule permits me only a miserly quantity of time to devote to this pursuit.  One thing that my schedule does seem to permit, however, is two bowling.  I can bowl two games almost every day, and finish within half an hour or so.  Unfortunately, bowling is hardly an aerobic workout.  While it does seem to do a lot of good in terms of muscle, it dos little to actually raise my pulse.*

I recently went outside to play catch with some teenage kids and got a real kick out of it.  Sadly, I throw like a girl.  I would like to believe that this is the natural side effect of having thrown nothing but a rope as a child, and I might be able to convince myself of the veracity of this sentiment were that I had ever been even a mediocre roper.  Such is not the case.  I find that I rope like a girl too.  No.  Strike that.  Most girls rope better than I do.  As it is, I have decided that it is high time for my father to teach me to throw a ball.**

In the seminary, I walked a great deal.  I was glad for the anonymity an evening constitutional granted me.  In the neighborhood of the Cathedral, to walk is to beg encounters with parishioners, and it is therefore less appealing.

I would like to begin lifting weights, and I think that I could deal with the fact that most teenage boys could lift more than me, but I just can't stand the idea of going to the gym to do it, and I would need to find someone to go with me besides.  I have some light weights and an exercise band in my rooms, but I find that given my approach to morning (i.e. avoiding it as long as possible), I have little to time to commit to these tools.

But, I have lost twenty-six pounds and intend to lose a great deal more.  One thing at a time I have to remind myself.  One thing at a time.

 

* This statement is not altogether true.  I find that throwing a ball down the gutter three frames in a row actually does raise my pulse.  Just not in the helpful exercisey sort of way.

** This should explain m urgent demand that my father dig through the closet to find the ball, bat, and glove that live there.