Weighing My Options and Exercising Choices: My Cirque du Soleil Moment

Initially the height of the bike’s seat had been adjusted to accommodate Mike’s longer legs. I tried to be a trooper and struggle with this compromise so he would still use the bike, too. The only way I could climb on was to actually stand on one of the pedals, which hovers about 4-5” off the floor in the ‘down’ position, and sling my opposite leg over the seat. (Are you cringing yet?)

One fateful day the inevitable happened. The pedal flipped while all my weight was still on one side of the bike. The contraption began to tip, flinging me into the cat tree. The 4’6” triple-tiered cat tree (fortunately, sans cat) and I subsequently pitched over onto the floor, narrowly missing the sliding glass patio door. My flight through the air must have looked like something from Cirque du Soleil, only without the sequined spandex costume, face paint, or musical accompaniment.

My right knee (why, oh why, is it always my right knee?) banged against something on the way down. It swiftly began swelling up and developed a massive multi-colored bruise. My right forearm bruised as well, with the addition of an interesting rug burn pattern from the carpet-covered cat tree. I also hit the under side of my chin on the bike handle (at least I think that’s what I clobbered), which caused my upper and lower teeth to smack together hard enough to make them ache for hours.

The younger of our two cats, Phoebe, witnessed the whole thing from the back of the sofa through eyes so enlarged they looked like something out of an animated cartoon. I’m so grateful she was late to arrive for this particular exercise session and hadn’t reached her customary front row seat in the cat tree yet. She was still very much a kitten at the time, being only few months old. Phoebe absolutely panicked, running through the pet door to hide in the garage. Side note: in her mad dash for safety into the nether regions of the garage where she was just learning her way around, she fell between a couple cabinets and got trapped there, adding to her distress. Like I said, every story seems to lead to another one, but I’ll save the saga of Phoebe’s rescue for another day.

The following day I limped into my sewing room where the treadmill happens to be located. I have long since forgotten my original intention, but it was not for the purpose of exercising mind you, at least not until my body thoroughly healed from the previous attempt at achieving health and fitness. When not in use (which is almost always) I drape my stretchy exercise band on the front handles of the treadmill by creating a loop and slipping the ends of the band securely through itself so it doesn’t fall on the floor and become a tripping hazard. The band is constructed out of some sort of synthetic ‘rubber’ tubing that you stand or sit on while pulling on the handles for resistance strength training. The handles have a firm bar to grip and the stretchy part runs through the center of the handgrips and back up to the main length of the tubing, forming an open triangle on each end to place your hands.

Now keeping that description that in mind, I need to provide a little background information. Our other cat, Kiisu, sometimes likes to nap on the treadmill. She seems to enjoy the steep incline. Rest assured her veterinarian hasn’t suggested this to her as being therapeutic, to my knowledge, nor am I aware of her experiencing any problems with acid reflux from canned cat food.

Just as I entered the room Kiisu decided, in a moment of feline inspiration only logical to her, to get on the machine from the elevated front instead of the far more convenient, to my way of thinking, open side or end. Furthermore, in the process she managed to step through one of those little triangles of my exercise band. The bar ended up positioned neatly under her belly. She kept walking downhill on the treadmill, but the triangle pulled snug around her hips and held her in place. Kiisu’s back legs peddled with an awkward high-stepping, exaggerated gait at the end of her tether. Imagine a bow-legged cowboy striding up to a saloon after a month-long cattle drive and you’ll get the general picture. Meanwhile, Phoebe sat there watching this new sporting event with her head tilted to one side in confusion. I’m pleased to report that I managed to rescue Kiisu before she, or Phoebe, decided a monster had grabbed her and they both needed to run for their lives. Thinking back, my one regret was that there was no time to hobble back to the living room and get my camera without risking a case of progressive cat-panic.

Once again I have digressed; enough talk about my cats’ exercise program and back to mine. I have resisted buying a membership at a gym in the past, mostly due to wearing exercise clothes in front of anyone besides my husband, or risking possible humiliation with incidents like falling off a stationary bike. All that laughter ringing in my ears? I just couldn’t risk it!

But time has passed. A couple pounds snuck back on over the holidays. Life happened and triggered some emotional eating. I felt discouraged and knew I was steadily undoing all the progress I made last year.

I was reminded of a conversation I had with a former neighbor who told me about his recovery from alcoholism and his participation in a support group with people who had various forms of addictions. He was particularly struck by the difficulties one person had with her relationship to food. Charles told me, “I can make the choice to keep booze completely out of my home and out of my sight. But what about food? We have to have it to survive. You can’t just ban it from your life!” Well said, my friend. It requires great discipline and will-power to control the cravings.

I’m now ready to make a renewed effort. Calories, weight, size … they may all just sound like numbers, but they are a barometer of health, and that’s the real issue. It’s those other numbers like cholesterol, blood pressure, and blood sugar that can get scary.

I made an appointment with my doctor and discussed my goals with him. I have signed up for a fitness and weight management program which includes cardio, strength and stretching. The owner of the franchise is a compassionate woman who is also a weight-loss success story. She has made me feel comfortable and like I belong. The gym doesn’t allow cats, but I’ll still work out with Kiisu and Phoebe at home on those days when I don’t go work out on the circuit. After all, pets need exercise, too!

Photographs from Wikipedia

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Weighing My Options and Exercising Choices: My Cirque du Soleil Moment

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