Close seconds? It’s too early. I mean, I just woke up seven hours ago. You have to respect your circadian rhythm. Otherwise, why bother having a body clock?
Besides, I worked out three weeks ago. It must qualify as momentum. In any case, all experts warn against overdoing it. That’s why I subtracted. Not doing it less definitely prevents overdoing it.
If I exercise today, I also have to take a shower. It requires a lot of water. Just trying to be super sustainable here, guys!
It will also help me to really be in the mood to exercise. Unfortunately, I’m never in the mood to exercise. But you never know. The muse could appear any time now.
In addition, I’ve gotten a lot of what you might call incidental exercise, the kind that is acquired through normal day-to-day activities. I floss with gusto. I make butterfly curls with a fork while eating. That’s all important.
I also have too many things to do today. I highly doubt that all the emails in my junk file will be deleted by itself. And one should watch YouTube videos of babies playing with puppies, and vice versa.
And, I’m too hungry to blow my quads right now. All dietitians warn you should never do a dog down when craving Nutella. Or when it’s full too. Or — my personal policy — any time between meals or snacks. If you forget about unnecessary movements, it facilitates digestion.
And what if I start my fitness routine only to end up getting distracted? Items always appear. Skipping practice guarantees that nothing can interfere with him. Once.
If only I belonged to the gym, I would be more motivated to exercise.
Or if I have an expensive personal trainer yelling at me in an impenetrable language.
Or even just a gym buddy who never yells at me in impenetrable language.
Or if sweatpants look better on me. Or I can prevent pain in my body in places where I never even knew I had a place. Or I have the right app to track my metrics to a decimal point. Or my hair stays in place while my body sweats to the old man. Or the humidity will decrease. Or I know how to do any kind of exercise in the first place. Or I can get the exact result I imagined myself almost instantly. Or I can maintain realistic expectations about my chances of becoming the next Mr Olympia.
If only all those factors came together — that, guys, would be a game changer. The long-awaited new me—chiseled, engraved, torn, shredded, and maxed-out—will finally appear in my mirror.
Am I really asking so much? I mean, everyone gets a little unwell sometimes.
It’s probably just my age, even though I’m still under 100.
Just coming up with all these excuses is exhausting. I’d better lie down to catch my breath.
Bob Brody, a consultant and essayist, is the author of the memoir “Playing Catch With Strangers: A Family Guy (Reluctantly) Comes of Age.”