Only, that never seemed to happen. Not only did I not go out in rain, I just never went out. Truck stops were loud, dangerous places. Once, when Richie jogged around a Flying J lot, a wise guy trucker leaned out of his window and yelled"RUN FORREST!"
Rest areas were too busy and I'd be stared at too much. I'd need another plan.
"Anyone fancy a jog out here?"
Next, I tried jumping rope. It can be done close to the truck and is therefore pretty inconspicuous. Perfect! I'll channel my 8-year old self. Let's go! I'll be super fit in no time.
STRAW-BERRY SHORT-CAKE
CREAM ON TOP
TELL ME THE NAME OF YOUR SWEET-ugh...heart
Um, OK, help, I can't breathe. My lungs are on fire. My legs are burning. Am I dying? Is this what death feels like? Is the jump rope supposed to end up wrapped around my neck like this?
(Sorry! I just added that last sentence for dramatic effect.)
So my 8- year old self didn't remember jumping rope being this...excruciating. How could I keep something up that felt like a fate worse than death?
Next, we obtained a mini stepper. We could use it in or out of the truck! I found it really painful on my calves though and could not do it quickly like Richie could. This period became the Making Excuses Phase as to why I simply couldn't exercise today. For some bizarre reason, looking at the stepper made me crave McDonalds. Go figure!
Moving a bit forward in time, the stepper broke and good riddance too! Now the real exercise can begin: calisthenics, weights and jogging and sprinting in place. I could do most of this inside the truck.
However, I could go outside too to do those exercises that require more space - like push ups, mountain climbers and burpees. (you know those exercises they made you do in gym class where you squat down, jump into push up position, jump back into a squat and then jump into the air?)
Push ups first. Well, I got down but I don't think I'm supposed to end up sprawled on my belly with no hope of pushing myself up.
Mountain climbers now. Burning lungs, shirt's riding up, people are starting to stare - not nice! Next!
Burpees? Oh, who am I kidding? I think I deserve some pizza after all that hard work.
I had a little more success with jogging in place in the truck and doing exercises like squats and lunges. I would do interval training: sprint for 20 seconds with 40 seconds marching.
Sometimes I'd do a routine 4 times a week, sometimes 1 or 2 or not at all. I never looked forward to exercise and in fact had an active dislike of it! It was a chore, I was unmotivated and judged myself as lazy because I never wanted to exercise, though in the back of my mind I knew I should do it. But it'd just be so much easier if I wasn't living on a truck! Why did I have to struggle so much when normal people had sidewalks, parks and gyms at their disposal? Why, if I had these things too, I'd be set! But no, I'm stuck in a truck. Doesn't anyone understand just how hard it is?
Guess what? We have now arrived at the end of 2014, pretty much up to the present day. Pretty much, but not quite!
Around the beginning of December, I suddenly had a pretty big realization and so many things came to make sense in my head. I am doing one of the most sedentary jobs on the planet and there are days where I may not get more than two minutes of movement. For more days than I care to admit, walking to and from the truck stop or rest area became all of the movement I would give my body that day.
Now, the human body is meant to move. Its very design by nature is made for movement. Yet, here I was depriving my body of its basic human need. I wouldn't treat a pet dog the way I had been treating myself. To do so would surely have constituted animal cruelty. I was thoroughly ashamed of myself and suddenly, my amusing excuses no longer seemed funny in the slightest.
One thing became crystal clear for me. First of all, I decided that I no longer had the right to continue making excuses and deprive my body of basic movement.
I had a choice - get off the truck and return to normal life or stay on the truck, stop making excuses and actually find something that works. After all, no one was forcing me to live on this truck! I was no prisoner or victim. So why was I acting and thinking like one?
If I decided to stay, I would have to accept the following:
1. This job is unnaturally sedentary.
2. To compensate for the nature of the job, to keep my body and mind stable and healthy, I would have to move every single day. No excuses.
So, here was the deal: being here on the truck would no be longer a right but a privilege. If I was not willing to pay the price for this privilege, Richie and I would have to get off the truck for good and find something else to do.
See you in Part 3 where I let you know the choices I made.
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