Friday, February 17, 2006
The Exercise Bike
I’m a middling sort of athlete. On the one hand, nobody has ever looked me over and said, “Ken, you really should try out for the Olympics,” and so I find watching the Winter Games a little demoralizing. Those men and women are just so much better than I am. On the other hand, I have never riddled my hunting buddy’s torso with bird shot, so I can still feel pretty good about myself.
But I have noticed that certain of my female co-workers are developing quite an interest in the Olympics. Each day they talk over every nuance, every gesture, every wrinkle in what I’ve started to call the men’s lycra sports. A fellow could feel insecure with so many limber athletes appearing on television each evening. Luckily, just before the Winter Olympics began I bought myself an exercise bike. I’m here today to report on my early progress in turning this gelatin body back into the bean pole it once was.
Day 1. I drive all over town looking at exercise equipment. I decide on a stationary bike, the much respected Schwinn Aerodyne. I order one over the phone.
Day 2. I build up a light sweat muscling the thing out of the trunk and down into the basement. I feel fitter already. No time to ride.
Day 3. Up on the bike for the first time. There’s not a lot to do while pedaling a stationary bike. I start to notice things about the basement rafters. Oh, look, the key to the freezer is still there on a nail where I put it 12 years ago. Look, that’s where the tv cable runs into the house. Boy, this is a boring form of exercise.
Day 4. The boredom continues. If I quit now, I calculate that each workout will have cost me more than $200 dollars. I decide to continue.
Day 5. I try to read while cycling. Today’s short story is something about a woman whose husband is a bit too middle aged and self satisfied, and her head is turned by a muscular younger man. I decide to keep exercising.
Day 6. Thank heavens for the iPod. I’m reliving my past, listening to all the songs I enjoyed in 1974. Back when I weighed 165 pounds. Hmmph.
Day 7. Playing a raunchy cd of the comedy routines of Richard Pryor. I’ll have to make sure the kids don’t find this one for a few more years. About halfway through my ride, Prior describes his heart attack. “Don’t breathe,” his heart attack tells him. Prior tries to take just a little breath. “I thought I told you not to breathe,” his heart attack says. “Now get your sorry self down on the ground.” His heart attack commands, and he obeys. I decide I can keep on exercising. I didn’t realize that Richard Pryor was such a motivational speaker. Besides, if I quit now, each hour of exercise would have cost me well over $100.
Day 8. This bike is really starting to bug me. It tells how many calories I’ve burned in a session – most days I manage about 400. But when I step over to the candy machine at work, I see that eating one little bag of peanuts will bring back on board more than half the calories I just jettisoned on the bike.
Day 9. Halfway through my ride, the dog starts barking upstairs. I better get off the bike and see what’s bugging him. I’ll ride longer tomorrow, I promise.
Day 10. No time to ride today. I have to go to the station to record my radio piece. Maybe tomorrow. I wonder what these bikes are selling for on Ebay.
A random selection from more than 300 Michiana Chronicles -- refresh the browser to see another set:
Joe Chaney -- More essays by Joe
Louise Collins -- More essays by Louise
April Lidinsky -- More essays by April
Jonathan Nashel -- More essays by Jonathan
Jeff Nixa -- More essays by Jeff
Ken Smith -- The Exercise Bike / More essays by Ken
Jeanette Saddler Taylor -- More essays by Jeanette
