I recently resumed workouts with my trainer, Grizelda the Queen Witch of the Northwest.
Witch, I said.
No, Grizelda is not really her name. But it’s what I call her when I am face down on the floor, exhausted, breathing up carpet lint and dust bunnies, wondering if my heart is about to explode, while she orders me to get my big carcass up and give her another 20 squats.
I know, I know. I’m the one who let myself get this way. Where once I had a large, but reasonably fit physique, now I look like something that got away from a Thanksgiving Day parade. Where once I had muscles you could actually see, now I have a thick coating of what I like to call insulation. Where once I could walk for hours and come back feeling invigorated, I can’t stroll around the block without feeling like I’ve just marched to Fort Zinderneuf and back.
And it’s my own fault. Well, mine and my traitorous body’s.
It happened a couple of years ago when I had eye trouble, thyroid trouble, and heart trouble in quick succession. I stopped training and filled the empty time with eating. Lots of eating. Basically, I stuffed my face with every example of junk food on the planet, with special concentrations on the M&M; and Dorito food groups.
Fast forward to last year and the scene where Mike steps on the scales at the doctor’s office and, after flinging the weights further and further to the right-hand side, the nurse lets out a low whistle and a “Wowie.”
Finally, I began to realize that there were certain problems that Oreos could not fix. I know, it’s hard to believe. But it’s true.
This led to hooking back up with Griz and resuming what some call “working out” and what I call Death By Sweat.
A typical session begins with what Grizelda says is stretching. Ha. By the time she’s finished, the footbone is no longer connected to the ankle bone, the ankle bone is no longer connected to the leg bone, and so on. I’m not stretched. I’m dissembled.
“Doesn’t that feel great?” she enthuses as she sticks my right foot in back of my left ear. I presume she’s talking to herself.
From there we move on to exercises, mostly of the dumbbell sort. And yes, I’m talking about me. I was a dumbbell for ever letting this happen in the first place.
We also do some work with the gym-type dumbbells. Well, it feels like work to me, anyway. And of course, Griz serves as inspiration when, after putting me through punishing sets of bicep curls and tricep kickbacks that turn my arms into noodles, she takes the dumbbells from my hands and starts twirling them in her fingers, like batons. The show-off.
So where’s all this exercise going to take me? Beats me. Someplace healthy, I hope. Someplace where I can enjoy my life more and not feel like the Economy Size Tub O’ Lard. Someplace where I can see my shoes.
And someplace where my legs don’t turn to jelly when Grizelda makes me pick up the weights and go through another set of squats. She says we’ll get there soon. I trust she’s right. She’s the expert on exercise. I don’t know ... well, squat.
Friends, there is a danger hiding in practically every home, office and school. It masquerades as a harmless office supply but in reality, it has the ability to make people mentally unstable, disable a school system, and virtually bring a small town to its knees. It's known as (cue scary music), the post-it note.
As a resident of Plainfield and frequent walker on our excellent trail system, I have often wondered what the laws are concerning the marked pedestrian crosswalks throughout town. So I talked to the Plainfield Police Department.
Mitt Romney went into the wrong line of work. If only he had been a lecturer in constitutional law, he wouldn't have a business record vulnerable to distortion by a desperate incumbent president.
Now that the Obama administration has officially sided with corrupting man-wife marriage to also mean two men or two women, it's time for Christians to reflect on what's going on in the culture. To be sure, the measure must pass certain hurdles to be the secular law of the land. And, if the Republican candidate wins come November, there may be a further delay in its implementation. But don't count on it.
I'm back from a few shows at the security theater.
I slogged my way through four airports this past month, and played my interactive role in that daily, multi-billion-dollar production brought to us by the federal government with the colossally misleading name of "airline security."
President Barack Obama insists that he didn't announce his support for gay marriage out of political considerations. He's right. He did it out of self-regard.
Is that smoke? I think I smell something burning. Something is definitely scorched. Did someone just burn a ham or did Patricia Krentcil, a.k.a. "tanning mom" just walk into the room?
U.S. Sen. Dick Lugar - vanquished by age, longevity, barrel bottom congressional approval ratings, and an aggressive opponent in Treasurer Richard Mourdock - seemed to be bridging a divided party when he took the stage shortly after 8 p.m. Tuesday as the magnitude of the 61 percent to 39 percent landslide against him registered.
The Cleveland Five are a sad-sack collection of wannabe terrorists if there ever was one. The amateurish young men who plotted to destroy a bridge outside Cleveland last week give the impression of needing the attention of a guidance counselor as much as a federal prosecutor.
Human remains may be embedded in the mud of the North Atlantic where the New York-bound Titanic came to rest when it sank 100 years ago, a federal official said.
Commentary
Death by sweat
I recently resumed workouts with my trainer, Grizelda the Queen Witch of the Northwest.
Witch, I said.
No, Grizelda is not really her name. But it’s what I call her when I am face down on the floor, exhausted, breathing up carpet lint and dust bunnies, wondering if my heart is about to explode, while she orders me to get my big carcass up and give her another 20 squats.
I know, I know. I’m the one who let myself get this way. Where once I had a large, but reasonably fit physique, now I look like something that got away from a Thanksgiving Day parade. Where once I had muscles you could actually see, now I have a thick coating of what I like to call insulation. Where once I could walk for hours and come back feeling invigorated, I can’t stroll around the block without feeling like I’ve just marched to Fort Zinderneuf and back.
And it’s my own fault. Well, mine and my traitorous body’s.
It happened a couple of years ago when I had eye trouble, thyroid trouble, and heart trouble in quick succession. I stopped training and filled the empty time with eating. Lots of eating. Basically, I stuffed my face with every example of junk food on the planet, with special concentrations on the M&M; and Dorito food groups.
Fast forward to last year and the scene where Mike steps on the scales at the doctor’s office and, after flinging the weights further and further to the right-hand side, the nurse lets out a low whistle and a “Wowie.”
Finally, I began to realize that there were certain problems that Oreos could not fix. I know, it’s hard to believe. But it’s true.
This led to hooking back up with Griz and resuming what some call “working out” and what I call Death By Sweat.
A typical session begins with what Grizelda says is stretching. Ha. By the time she’s finished, the footbone is no longer connected to the ankle bone, the ankle bone is no longer connected to the leg bone, and so on. I’m not stretched. I’m dissembled.
“Doesn’t that feel great?” she enthuses as she sticks my right foot in back of my left ear. I presume she’s talking to herself.
From there we move on to exercises, mostly of the dumbbell sort. And yes, I’m talking about me. I was a dumbbell for ever letting this happen in the first place.
We also do some work with the gym-type dumbbells. Well, it feels like work to me, anyway. And of course, Griz serves as inspiration when, after putting me through punishing sets of bicep curls and tricep kickbacks that turn my arms into noodles, she takes the dumbbells from my hands and starts twirling them in her fingers, like batons. The show-off.
So where’s all this exercise going to take me? Beats me. Someplace healthy, I hope. Someplace where I can enjoy my life more and not feel like the Economy Size Tub O’ Lard. Someplace where I can see my shoes.
And someplace where my legs don’t turn to jelly when Grizelda makes me pick up the weights and go through another set of squats. She says we’ll get there soon. I trust she’s right. She’s the expert on exercise. I don’t know ... well, squat.
© 2009 Mike Redmond. All Rights Reserved.
Friends, there is a danger hiding in practically every home, office and school. It masquerades as a harmless office supply but in reality, it has the ability to make people mentally unstable, disable a school system, and virtually bring a small town to its knees. It's known as (cue scary music), the post-it note.
May 18, 2012
As a resident of Plainfield and frequent walker on our excellent trail system, I have often wondered what the laws are concerning the marked pedestrian crosswalks throughout town. So I talked to the Plainfield Police Department.
May 18, 2012
Mitt Romney went into the wrong line of work. If only he had been a lecturer in constitutional law, he wouldn't have a business record vulnerable to distortion by a desperate incumbent president.
May 18, 2012
And now, hold on to your hats because it's time for ...
Dentists In The News!
May 15, 2012
Now that the Obama administration has officially sided with corrupting man-wife marriage to also mean two men or two women, it's time for Christians to reflect on what's going on in the culture. To be sure, the measure must pass certain hurdles to be the secular law of the land. And, if the Republican candidate wins come November, there may be a further delay in its implementation. But don't count on it.
May 15, 2012
I'm back from a few shows at the security theater.
I slogged my way through four airports this past month, and played my interactive role in that daily, multi-billion-dollar production brought to us by the federal government with the colossally misleading name of "airline security."
May 14, 2012
President Barack Obama insists that he didn't announce his support for gay marriage out of political considerations. He's right. He did it out of self-regard.
May 14, 2012
Is that smoke? I think I smell something burning. Something is definitely scorched. Did someone just burn a ham or did Patricia Krentcil, a.k.a. "tanning mom" just walk into the room?
May 11, 2012
U.S. Sen. Dick Lugar - vanquished by age, longevity, barrel bottom congressional approval ratings, and an aggressive opponent in Treasurer Richard Mourdock - seemed to be bridging a divided party when he took the stage shortly after 8 p.m. Tuesday as the magnitude of the 61 percent to 39 percent landslide against him registered.
May 11, 2012
The Cleveland Five are a sad-sack collection of wannabe terrorists if there ever was one. The amateurish young men who plotted to destroy a bridge outside Cleveland last week give the impression of needing the attention of a guidance counselor as much as a federal prosecutor.
May 11, 2012
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Human remains may be embedded in the mud of the North Atlantic where the New York-bound Titanic came to rest when it sank 100 years ago, a federal official said.
April 16, 2012 3 Photos 3 Stories
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