Every morning Becky gets up and heads to a workout place with her sister.  Every morning for four days now.  Before that, for months before that, Becky woke up before the kids and I, popped a DVD in her laptop and kicked and lifted and sat up and whatnot for about an hour.  Every morning.  While I slept.

I’m thin.  (Have you noticed?) Actually, here are the real live numbers: I’m six foot two inches tall and I weigh in at 137 pounds as of Monday.  Maybe I’ve seen too many Disney movies but I really don’t care (almost every day) what I (and you) look like.

(On the days I do care it’s usually because a non-thin “fan” has reminded me oh-so-delicately after a show that I am in fact “scary thin” and says something like “Boy, you need to eat!” or “Are you anorexic or somethin’?” Which happens regularly in Houston, Orlando and all of Wisconcin. For some reason it’s OK for a non-thin person to tell me I’m thin in front of a dozen or so people but not OK for me to then reply with “And you’re not.” Go figure. But I’m obviously not bothered at all by any of this, no sir.  Well adjusted and forgiving, I am.)

But there is a downside to this being thin thing.  I lie.

A lot of thin people, I suspect, do this.  We tell ourselves we don’t need to exercise.  We tell ourselves that because work-out places and books and magazines and parents on diets tend to talk about exercise only as a way to get thin.  That’s the only or most oft expressed goal. And, heck, I am thin already, so most of my life I’ve said I’ll pass on the whole sweating thing, thanks muchly. My “recreation” credits in college were earned by bowling and doing some stretching and breathing that looked a lot like Yoga but was called “Stress Management and Relaxation” by the Baptist(ish) university I attended for obvious soul preserving in-the-world-but-not-of-it sorts of reasons.  I am, in a word, inactive.  And, in another, happy.

But since marrying, Becky has nagged reminded me again and again that exercise is something we should do to stay healthy and live longer and function better and make the most of the body God has gifted to us and that if I die before her she’ll likely immediately begin sleeping around.  With Irish guys.  Or friends of mine from high school.  (She’s evil because she went to a state school you know?)

And this message of hers turns out to be more persuasive -with much repetition – than any other exercise marketing I’ve encountered.  It’s also true that, while I am thin, I do get winded and crampy and occasionally vomit when running to my flight’s gate or doing other physically intense stuff like vacuuming. So tonight I’m trying this class thing at the place she works out.  Its description on the brochure contains the words “boot camp” and also lots of exclamation marks!!!!!!!!  Yay.

It’s a free trial.  But, I’m told, if I “like” the class I can pay the muscled leader guy named Rick (who we actually know and is nice and certified and worth every penny) to make me hate him and hurt myself on a more regular basis.

I’ll keep you updated on my progress toward health because I’m just so certain your life is small and quite the void without knowledge of such minutia about my life.  Note: There will be no shirtless videos posted here in said updates.  My apologies.