Here’s why: Jesus H. Flippin’ Christ died when he was thirty-three, which I just turned a few weeks ago. That’s pretty much where the similarities stop, but he’s been on my mind the last couple of days because I joined a gym. Jesus doesn’t really have anything to do with the gym, but I have been taking his name in vain pretty frequently (along with his Trinitarian Father’s). See, I hate the gym. But what I hate worse is feeling like shit all the time, and since it’s easier to cook up conspiracy theories on the treadmill than to focus on my pain and suffering (I suppose one could also watch Top Chef) that’s what I did.
In some hallucinogenic way, it makes sense to me. Don’t get me wrong, Pilate and the garden and the meal and the ear and the forgiveness of sins and stuff is beautiful and, clearly, has endured. But in the end what seems more likely is that Jesus woke up when he turned 33 and realized he needed to take things to the next level. And I’m not kidding, the next level might just kill me, which is what got me on this whole thing in the first place. What I figured out yesterday while bouncing along on the treadmill is that it just seems more likely that Jesus was killed not by a band of power hungry politicians but by the ancient near eastern equivalent of a stationary bicycle.
Bit of a stretch?
The deal is that, unlike Jesus, I would like to see 34. And truth to tell, way beyond. I’m not in ill health, I just think I could feel better. But it’s hard to get up off one’s ass after three sedentary decades, which is why there were so many thoughts about literally dying while I was exercising.
This is not the first gym I’ve joined. Some of you may remember that, indeed, it was another gym experience that got this blog started in the first place. Looking back at that post, it’s too bad I didn’t stick with the whole gym thing the first (or second or third etc.) time around. Oh well.
My goals are few. 1) actually go. What I’ve learned over the years is that showing up is more than half the battle. Once I’m there I can do what I need to do, and I don’t always hate it. But I do hate going, so there’s the rub. So in addition to paying for it (something new I am trying to see if it encourages more frequent attendance, unlike the free university gym) I’m also trying a nine week couch to 5k program that I found online. It allows me to start off slowly, and then supposedly in nine weeks I’ll be running an entire 5k. I realize that probably sounds lame to a lot of people, but I don’t care. 2) Live longer than Jesus did. 3) Inspire only half as many crazy people. 4) Get home as quickly as possible and have a restorative cocktail.
Which is what I am doing right now.