Editor’s note: This is Part 4 of a five-part series, “R-E-M-E-W,” built around five essentials I’ve come to believe are worth making part of everyday life. Each installment explores one of the practices I’m learning to prioritize as I figure out what it means to live well.
Part 1: Read | Part 2: Eat to live | Part 3: Meditate | Part 4: Exercise | Part 5: Aug. 27
I used to think physically fit people were vain — especially the guys flexing in the gym.
I didn’t understand the obsession with muscles, muscle shirts or spending hours lifting weights. I had better things to do with my time.
Give me a basketball.
I grew up playing sports in a competitive community, so I understood competition. I loved a challenge. I never considered basketball exercise. It was love, passion, fun and fellowship.
Exercise was something else entirely.
An old routine from my high school basketball coach has actually stuck with me. Using a deck of playing cards, you alternate between push-ups and crunches as you work through the deck. Face cards are 10. Aces are 11.
I still pull it out occasionally, including during my 5 AM Club routine.
Beyond that, structured exercise was pretty much nonexistent for years.
I was always mindful of when enough was enough. When the fatty foods and sweets started catching up with me. When the couch became too comfortable. When my clothes got a little too snug or I started losing my breath climbing stairs or, worse, walking.
I’d cut back. Tighten up. Exercise for a while. Get some swagger back.
Then I’d fall off again.
It started with my knees. I eventually had to retire from basketball because I couldn’t play the way I once did. I couldn’t run the same. Couldn’t jump as high. Couldn’t go up for a layup without bouts of excruciating pain.
For someone who considers basketball his first love, that was a tough thing to accept.
It was the wake-up call I needed. I couldn’t afford to carry excess weight. A doctor once told me that he could operate on my knees, but he’d be wasting my time. If I wanted to feel better, he said, I needed to get in better shape.
I’ve never forgotten that.
I’m in my 40s now, and I know my body doesn’t recover the way it once did. I don’t have the luxury of neglecting my health.
More than anything, I want to live.
I want to be healthy into old age. I want the energy to enjoy the life I’m working so hard to build. I want to be around for Parker and her children.
No one knows exactly what life is going to bring. But I can control some of the things that increase my chances of being here to experience it.
That’s why my gym routine is intentionally simple: 45 minutes on the elliptical, Monday through Friday.
That’s it.
I’m not training for a competition. I’m not trying to impress anybody. I don’t need anyone’s validation.
I rarely feel like going. I go anyway.
The reward isn’t just what happens to my body. It’s what happens in my mind when I set a goal and keep it. A little pride. A little more confidence.
You start building evidence that you can trust yourself.
I’ve noticed the results in my physique. Every now and then, I’ll walk up to Parker, lift my shirt and ask, “Do I got abs?”
Six weeks ago, I jokingly asked if I could be a model. She nearly rolled her eyes out of her head.
A couple of weeks ago, I asked again if I had abs.
“Geez, are you trying to be a model or something?” Parker asked.
I’ll take that as progress.
Parker often asks me during our routine 8 o’clock call if I went to the gym. It’s rare that I get to say no.
Truthfully, I don’t love the question. I’d rather she focus on doing her own push-ups than keeping tabs on mine. But I’m proud of the progress she’s making and the way she’s beginning to understand the importance of taking care of herself.
Push-ups have become shorthand in our home for doing the work.
I’ve taught her from a young age that what she eats doesn’t make anyone else poop and vice versa. The same principle applies here: I can encourage her, demonstrate for her and hold her accountable, but she has to do her own push-ups.
I want her to understand that taking care of yourself isn’t vanity. It’s responsibility.
Keep going, sweetie!
Daddy will too.
I no longer exercise just to get my swagger back.
Now I exercise because I want to live well for as long as I can.
I want to be strong enough to enjoy it. And I want to keep proving to myself that I have the discipline to do the things that matter, even when I don’t feel like doing them.
Health really is the highest form of wealth.
And I’m doing everything I can to protect mine.
Walk with me...
At the start of the pandemic, when everything was closed and there was nowhere to go and nothing to do, I found peace.
