What accounts for the change? The “fitness” edition.

“Fitness” is a relative term. My physical condition could certainly be better — my doctor would like me to lose about 30 lbs, so I’ve agreed not to consult her again until absolutely necessary. And to be fair, my physical condition could also be a whole lot worse.

My COVID exercise routine has been a tad more disciplined than it was prior to lockdown, particularly in the winter months. I have a resistance trainer clamped to the bicycle, and I do not at all mind heading into the basement, donning the shorts and cleats, then opening the window and pedaling myself into a dripping sweat.

"Pedal into the light!"

The ritual of it actually reminds me of my hockey playing days, which I miss terribly. The play, the change-room bonhomie — all a receding memory. But again — to be fair — I do not miss the back pain, which after a Sunday night game was extending further and further into the week. My stationary bicycle may be a lonlier variant, but I still get the workout, a bit of aerobic catharsis, and the coveted endorphin rush.

I also try to adhere to a resistance routine — bodyweight and light free-weights. But my motivation for this workout is somewhere well below zero.

This is a change I never expected. From 16 years old until some point in my early 40s working out with weights was an actual passion. I loved it. The 90s introduced the “Split routine” — I could work out with weights every day of the week (except for the mandatory recovery day, boo!). Aerobic exercise was the motivational challenge back then. Bike to work, walk to the grocer’s. That was about it.

For all this, I was never a particularly “strong” or muscular guy. I had tone, but couldn’t bulk up to save my life. Not that I didn’t try. I had my creatine and powdered protein phase. And at 38 I adhered to a draconian regimen that finally nudged me into the 200lb Bench Press Club.

At that point I realized there was nowhere to go but down. In subsequent years I swapped around various push-pull routines and kept at it. But the days of the One Rep Max were over. Eventually a couple of minor injuries brought another reality to bear — I was now required to apply awareness and care to these routines, lest a workout injury sideline me permanently.

Pedaling is still a relatively carefree pleasure. Headphones permit me to listen to music as loud as I like. And I try to nudge my aging bod through a limited push-pull session at least once a week. But finding motivation for the latter is the real workout.