Exercise not a waste ­ it’s helping Bob’s waist

Exercise not a waste � it's helping Bob's waist by Bob Karolevitz Phyllis is going to get me in shape even if it kills me.

Granted I�m getting kind of flabby around the middle, and my routine is quite sedentary � but I didn�t think I was THAT bad.

She does, however!

Consequently, I�m being subjected to a regimen which she has designed to make me last longer than Methuselah. And according to what I read in Genesis (Chapter V, Verses 25-27), he didn�t exercise at all � except to have kids.

Be that as it may, though, she�s got me out of my chair and doing things that haven�t been foisted on me since World War II.

�No pain, no gain,� she says cheerfully. And judging from that, I must be gaining a lot!

First of all comes the walking. It�s too cold to do it outside, and our farm is too far from the Wellness Center, so we do our trudging � without cane � right in the house.

Round and round we go � in the living room, the kitchen, out through the utility room and back again until the buzzer (which she sets for five minutes) goes off. Incidentally, it�s the longest five minutes of my life.

�We�re going to wear out the rug,� I complain, hoping, of course, that I don�t wear out first.

�Maybe we should just mark time in the kitchen where the snacks are,� I continue (to deaf ears).

When the walking is over, she puts me on the treadmill, and again she sets the timer. Whoever thought up that gosh-awful machine must not have had any place to go.

I suppose it�s doing me good as I plod away on the moving platform which I have to activate. It seems to me, though, that it should be hooked up to a wash machine or a butter churn like those old-fashioned treadmills that sheep or dogs operated. I hate to see all that energy going to waste.

�It�s not going to waste,� she informs me. �It�s helping your waist.�

Of course I don�t argue with her as we move to the next phase of her program. It�s the exercise segment.

For that we have to get down on the floor, and that�s exercise enough for an old guy like me. But then I�ve survived so far, so I willingly comply.

She has a whole set of leg-lifts and tummy-tighteners which her doctor prescribed. They come with written instructions and simple drawings to show you how to benefit from those healthful feats.

Well, years ago I taught physical training in the Army, and we didn�t have any fancy artwork to explain the intricacies of push-ups and jumping-jacks � so I opted to do my own thing.

However, it�s the getting up part that offers the greatest challenge. I can get down all right, but when the exercising is over, I�m supposed to get back on my feet. That�s easier said than done.

You should see me crawling to the nearest chair to boost myself up. On the other hand, maybe you shouldn�t!

Needless to say, I�m going along with Phyllis�s �battle of the bulge.� Maybe it�ll work; maybe it won�t. If nothing else, it mollifies my wife.

After all, it�s the price one pays for being a husband.

� 2003 Robert F. Karolevitz

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