So I got the bicycle and have been riding. Put in eleven miles and seventy-five minutes yesterday. Paying for it today. Not feeling well at all. Will probably stay off the bike (probably not) and just do treadmill today.
Getting sick from riding too much reminded me of the one and only bike-a-thon I was part of. Did that back in the mid-70s. When I was nineteen or twenty.
It was Randy's idea to participate. He invited Stephen, who invited me. We met some others, including a co-worker of mine at the pizza shop, at the starting point and took off as a group of six or seven. Randy was in training. He wanted to do the 100-mile Ironman later that summer. This particular ride was fifty miles. For charity. You got people to pledge so much a mile. I didn't get many pledges. Asking people for anything is difficult for me, but asking them for money is a nightmare. So I would just make it known I was involved and let them offer to pledge. Think I got ten or fifteen dollars for the thing.
Anyway, being young and feeling "macho", we got into a competition before we even started. The deal was, who could go the longest before they had to get off their bike and walk, or just plain stop and take a rest? There were allowances. For instance, there were about a half dozen checkpoints for the bikers. These would typically be at fast-food restaurants or convenience store filling stations. Getting off one's bike to purchase food or drink, or to use the facilities didn't count. But between checkpoints did.
We started out together and reached the first checkpoint as a group. Same with the second. That was where we got food and drink. I avoided the food and went only with the drink. Didn't want to get sick.
On the third leg we began to spread out. And all but three of us got off their bikes to walk up the nightmare hill. I felt like I was biking straight up into the air. I had a Raleigh bike with ten speeds. Stephen's bike was even better. (I had got my Raleigh from Stephen. Traded a Chevy Vega for it. I got the best part of the deal.) I made it to the top without stopping going on sheer willpower and pride. You see, Stephen didn't stop either. Neither did my co-worker. Silly macho pride kept us going. After that hill I was convinced I would do not worse than tie for the longest ride.
After the final checkpoint we had several uninteresting miles to cover in order to finish. We had begun early in the morning and now it was late afternoon. I was wiped. The furthest I had ever biked in a single day before was maybe thirty miles. Randy, who was hoping to bike 100-miles in just a couple of months had to take several rests. So did nearly everyone else. Even my co-worker finally looked at me and gave up, conceding my willpower over his. That left just Stephen and me. I knew we would finish together.
Except by now we were spreading out into a long line separated by huge gaps. I had been in the middle or near the front all day, but I had fallen behind. Stephen decided he would rather finish first and I told him to go ahead and he was soon out of sight, too. I plodded.
Then, I passed my co-worker. He was laying on the ground beside his bicycle taking a nap. One by one I passed the others, including Randy. I planned on telling Stephen about it, but then I found Stephen laying beside the road, too. I had won.
Now I could have got off right then and taken a rest, but for whatever reason I decided I wouldn't. It was only five miles to finish and I was going to make it without stopping. I plodded.
Then Stephen passed me. Looking fresh. Not long after that Randy passed me. One-by-one they all did. My co-worker passed me with two miles to go.
I came into the last stretch ready to fall over and die. I had forgotten what things were like at the end. When we began it was fun. A long ride down a hill. Now it was reversed. A horrendous climb which lasted nearly a half mile. And it was sandy.
It was so tempting to give up at the end. Why is that? When the end was twenty, ten, or even five miles away I was determined to finish. Now, with the finish line in my sights, I wanted to give up and quit. Why?
I would have quit, too - except for Stephen, Randy, and the others. I saw them. They were standing at the finishing line cheering me on as though it were some big deal. I struggled with finding a suitable gear to climb a sandy hill but made it. I didn't stop until I was sure I had put the finish line behind me. I finished a half hour behind the one in front of me. But I had done something none of them had: never stopped.
I had to work that night. So did my co-worker. He lived three miles from work. I was more like fifteen. Stephen brought me home and I got dressed and hurried to the pizza place. I was late by an hour. When I got there the owner was there. He was not happy. What surprised me was that my co-worker was not there. The owner followed me to the back where I punched in and took an apron.
"You're late!" (as if I hadn't figured that out on my own)
"I know. It was the bike-a-thon. It took a lot longer than I thought."
"Jeff was late, too. I sent him home. Maybe I should send you home, like I did him."
I was too exhausted to argue or be afraid. I was fluffing out my apron to put it on (you know the way you do) and instead let it drap over the counter. I looked at him.
"Are you sending me home?"
He wanted to. I could tell that. But I was his best cook (next to his son, Rich). And he had already sent Jeff home. If he sent me home, too, that would mean he would have to stay and cook, and Norm just wasn't that good. He'd never be able to keep up with a supper rush. He knew that. So he just grumbled at me and left.
I wish he had sent me home. I could hardly move.
Eleven miles is a far cry from fifty, but at my age, weight, and general physical condition it will do. My blood just isn't used to having to move like that anymore. I'm dizzy when I stand up and I even had to bend over the toilet for a bit. But don't worry. This tortoise is going to keep plodding. I don't know how to do anything else. That's what we tortoises do.
Oh. And Randy did enter the Ironman later that summer. At seventy-five miles he stopped and called Stephen to come and bring him home. He didn't make it, and he was ever crabby after that. I could have told him he went farther than I had guessed, but some things you don't say to good friends. They must be a best friend, I guess. Stephen and I would have said.
Showing posts with label Exercise. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Exercise. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Monday, May 4, 2009
The Elusive Gift of Confidence
Got a bicycle yesterday. We can't afford the purchase, but there were extenuating reasons why we made it.
Rode with Son three times through the afternoon for a total of forty-five minutes and six miles. Not exactly booking down the road, but my legs feel it today. Put on more than 7,500-steps. Maybe with this bike I will achieve the goal of 10,000-steps much more quickly. Didn't do the treadmill yesterday for doing so much biking. Will try to combine the two. I expect each exercise provides its own benefit.
Got me to thinking about how I learned to ride a two-wheeler. I was five or six years old when I got the bike. As I recall it was too large for me. I was afraid, but Daddy said he would teach me. And he did. But he failed to teach me confidence. He expected that to just come, I guess. It didn't. Confidence and me have never been overly close. One or the other of us always seems to find a way to separate from the other.
Daddy's way of teaching was to hold onto the back of the seat to steady me and then run along as I peddled. I thought that was cool. But there was a problem. You ever try running alongside a bicycle in motion? Even one peddled by a six-year-old? Daddy would have been around thirty-nine or forty. He was strong, but he wasn't a runner. He couldn't keep up. Not his fault.
What I do think was his fault was that he didn't tell me that. In fact, he told me the opposite. He would hang on while I peddled. But he couldn't. Still, I believed he could. I was only six, and not that bright.
I wouldn't get far before I would hear my siblings laughing. By six I had learned that was never a good sign unless I was laughing with them. Turning, I would see Daddy being left behind. I was on my own.
Immediately I would cease to peddle, freeze up in a panic, and eventually fall in a heap with my bicycle. Daddy would come and bring me back and we would do it again. Again he would tell me he would hang on, and again I believed that meant until I was ready for him to let go. How silly of me. I just wasn't getting it. Crash.
I don't recall how many times I crashed. My siblings loved it. It was better than going to a movie. There was no joy like watching someone else be humiliated. Eventually, Daddy had to give up. While not old, he couldn't keep running down the driveway like that. (Dirt driveway.)
He was probably very disappointed in me. I'm sure in his mind he was thinking that I would instantly achieve confidence when I realized I had been biking alone for so long. But that never happened. I panicked every time and crashed. And after that day I never trusted anyone to hold onto the seat. (Daddy had made Mickey do it. Mickey went farther, but even he had to give up trying to keep pace with wheels.)
Reluctantly, Daddy agreed to get me training wheels. I think he felt shamed. He had never even known anyone who had needed training wheels before. Now, one of his children was too afraid to go near a bicycle anymore. So I got training wheels.
I didn't need them long. I remember the neighborhood kids teasing me about them. I didn't much care for the teasing, but it was better than crashing all the time. Then Tommy, Chris's younger brother, went biking with me. It was just the two of us. He kept looking at my wheels. Finally, he told me that he didn't think I needed the extra wheels. Said they never touched the ground until I stopped. (They made an excellent bike stand.) So he talked me into going home and asking Daddy to take them off. Daddy must have been happy in a way. On the one hand I was now daring to ride without the extra help. On the other, he hadn't been the one to bring me to that place.
I feel bad about that, but Daddy just didn't understand. While I was blessed with great physical strength, and a good amount of intelligence, I was crippled emotionally. It takes me ten, or twenty, times longer to develop confidence than others seem to need. There have been very few exceptions to this. I fell in love with the theatre right off. And baseball. And I believe I can tell a good story, even if I don't write so well. And I think I know what it's like to feel someone else's pain. But after that, no.
So yesterday Son and I arrive at the bike shop. Madonna, who sold us Son's bike was there, but busy with another customer. So we got Jason. A nice young guy who probably bikes a hundred miles a day or something. He brought out a nice Trek bike and we went outside so I could test drive it.
I got on, and immediately started to fall to my face. Jasan did an excellent job of trying not to laugh. Did a lousy job of succeeding. After taking a few trips around the parking lot we went back inside so Jason could find another model for me to try. I took the opportunity to ask Son, "So, did I look okay, or did I look really stupid?" I love Son's honesty. "Kind of both."
You know, I can live with that. I don't particularly care to be looking stupid in public (which is why I avoid being in public at every opportunity), but Son's honesty tells me I needn't wonder about it. It is. Knowing the truth somehow makes it easier to bear. I'm hoping I only look stupid because I'm fat. By the end of summer that may not be so true anymore. Then I'll just have other reasons for looking stupid.
Would Daddy be proud of me, I wonder? Or would he think I look stupid, too? Daddy hated stupid.
Rode with Son three times through the afternoon for a total of forty-five minutes and six miles. Not exactly booking down the road, but my legs feel it today. Put on more than 7,500-steps. Maybe with this bike I will achieve the goal of 10,000-steps much more quickly. Didn't do the treadmill yesterday for doing so much biking. Will try to combine the two. I expect each exercise provides its own benefit.
Got me to thinking about how I learned to ride a two-wheeler. I was five or six years old when I got the bike. As I recall it was too large for me. I was afraid, but Daddy said he would teach me. And he did. But he failed to teach me confidence. He expected that to just come, I guess. It didn't. Confidence and me have never been overly close. One or the other of us always seems to find a way to separate from the other.
Daddy's way of teaching was to hold onto the back of the seat to steady me and then run along as I peddled. I thought that was cool. But there was a problem. You ever try running alongside a bicycle in motion? Even one peddled by a six-year-old? Daddy would have been around thirty-nine or forty. He was strong, but he wasn't a runner. He couldn't keep up. Not his fault.
What I do think was his fault was that he didn't tell me that. In fact, he told me the opposite. He would hang on while I peddled. But he couldn't. Still, I believed he could. I was only six, and not that bright.
I wouldn't get far before I would hear my siblings laughing. By six I had learned that was never a good sign unless I was laughing with them. Turning, I would see Daddy being left behind. I was on my own.
Immediately I would cease to peddle, freeze up in a panic, and eventually fall in a heap with my bicycle. Daddy would come and bring me back and we would do it again. Again he would tell me he would hang on, and again I believed that meant until I was ready for him to let go. How silly of me. I just wasn't getting it. Crash.
I don't recall how many times I crashed. My siblings loved it. It was better than going to a movie. There was no joy like watching someone else be humiliated. Eventually, Daddy had to give up. While not old, he couldn't keep running down the driveway like that. (Dirt driveway.)
He was probably very disappointed in me. I'm sure in his mind he was thinking that I would instantly achieve confidence when I realized I had been biking alone for so long. But that never happened. I panicked every time and crashed. And after that day I never trusted anyone to hold onto the seat. (Daddy had made Mickey do it. Mickey went farther, but even he had to give up trying to keep pace with wheels.)
Reluctantly, Daddy agreed to get me training wheels. I think he felt shamed. He had never even known anyone who had needed training wheels before. Now, one of his children was too afraid to go near a bicycle anymore. So I got training wheels.
I didn't need them long. I remember the neighborhood kids teasing me about them. I didn't much care for the teasing, but it was better than crashing all the time. Then Tommy, Chris's younger brother, went biking with me. It was just the two of us. He kept looking at my wheels. Finally, he told me that he didn't think I needed the extra wheels. Said they never touched the ground until I stopped. (They made an excellent bike stand.) So he talked me into going home and asking Daddy to take them off. Daddy must have been happy in a way. On the one hand I was now daring to ride without the extra help. On the other, he hadn't been the one to bring me to that place.
I feel bad about that, but Daddy just didn't understand. While I was blessed with great physical strength, and a good amount of intelligence, I was crippled emotionally. It takes me ten, or twenty, times longer to develop confidence than others seem to need. There have been very few exceptions to this. I fell in love with the theatre right off. And baseball. And I believe I can tell a good story, even if I don't write so well. And I think I know what it's like to feel someone else's pain. But after that, no.
So yesterday Son and I arrive at the bike shop. Madonna, who sold us Son's bike was there, but busy with another customer. So we got Jason. A nice young guy who probably bikes a hundred miles a day or something. He brought out a nice Trek bike and we went outside so I could test drive it.
I got on, and immediately started to fall to my face. Jasan did an excellent job of trying not to laugh. Did a lousy job of succeeding. After taking a few trips around the parking lot we went back inside so Jason could find another model for me to try. I took the opportunity to ask Son, "So, did I look okay, or did I look really stupid?" I love Son's honesty. "Kind of both."
You know, I can live with that. I don't particularly care to be looking stupid in public (which is why I avoid being in public at every opportunity), but Son's honesty tells me I needn't wonder about it. It is. Knowing the truth somehow makes it easier to bear. I'm hoping I only look stupid because I'm fat. By the end of summer that may not be so true anymore. Then I'll just have other reasons for looking stupid.
Would Daddy be proud of me, I wonder? Or would he think I look stupid, too? Daddy hated stupid.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Works in Progress
Today is "Writing Assignments" day. Originally, it mean Evil Editor exercises. That was when I didn't really have any other writing projects on my active burners. In fact, last fall my active burners were suffering from a noticeable loss of fuel supply.
Since the end of last October, when I began blogging with a single blog, A Voice in the Wind, things have changed, and changed again. The presence of new friends to fill the void which had become far larger than I realized has thawed the flow of fuel to my heart and mind and stories are once again jumping about like the sunfish on Little Wabanna Lake at dusk.
Only I am not so foolish as to try writing them all right away. There were a couple of ideas I got and talked about writing too soon. One was The Power of Music, but I jumped the gun on that one. It needed to "cook" a bit more before taking it out. So right now I've only got two active writing assignments - self-assigned. One is the write the query for Traitor. I've got a rough copy right now. I'll rework it after I finish my final reading. The other is Quest, which is my sequel to Apprentice. That was begun yesterday, but I got nothing done on it today. Too many interruptions. (Spouse was home. Sump pump burned out and the basement began to flood. I've been sick for three days. Put together three boxes of books.)
Got some potentially good news today, too. Not ready to post about it, though. One may turn out to be nothing and the other could turn out to be a hundred times worse than good if things go bad. Isn't that just the way life is right now? All new endeavors have become high risk.
Cest La Vie.
Since the end of last October, when I began blogging with a single blog, A Voice in the Wind, things have changed, and changed again. The presence of new friends to fill the void which had become far larger than I realized has thawed the flow of fuel to my heart and mind and stories are once again jumping about like the sunfish on Little Wabanna Lake at dusk.
Only I am not so foolish as to try writing them all right away. There were a couple of ideas I got and talked about writing too soon. One was The Power of Music, but I jumped the gun on that one. It needed to "cook" a bit more before taking it out. So right now I've only got two active writing assignments - self-assigned. One is the write the query for Traitor. I've got a rough copy right now. I'll rework it after I finish my final reading. The other is Quest, which is my sequel to Apprentice. That was begun yesterday, but I got nothing done on it today. Too many interruptions. (Spouse was home. Sump pump burned out and the basement began to flood. I've been sick for three days. Put together three boxes of books.)
Got some potentially good news today, too. Not ready to post about it, though. One may turn out to be nothing and the other could turn out to be a hundred times worse than good if things go bad. Isn't that just the way life is right now? All new endeavors have become high risk.
Cest La Vie.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Whale Watching
NOTE: Created a Watch Page for tracking my weight.
The goal is for me to drop my weight down to 230-250 pounds. I will post my daily weight (DW) and trend weight (TW) here. You then can monitor my progress and call me when my "trend" weight begins to move in the wrong direction.
The key is to watch "trend" and not "daily" weight.
NOTE: Trend weight shows how my weight is progressing over time. It's a semi-complicated formula I came across a number of years ago. That I weigh more today than yesterday does not matter, as long as it is still below the trend weight.
Let the counting begin!
Date. . . . . . . . . . . Daily Wt . Trend Wt
Monday, April 6, 2009 . . .378.8 . . .380.0
Sunday, April 5, 2009. . . 379.8. . . 380.2
Saturday, April 4, 2009 . .378.2 . . .380.2
The goal is for me to drop my weight down to 230-250 pounds. I will post my daily weight (DW) and trend weight (TW) here. You then can monitor my progress and call me when my "trend" weight begins to move in the wrong direction.
The key is to watch "trend" and not "daily" weight.
NOTE: Trend weight shows how my weight is progressing over time. It's a semi-complicated formula I came across a number of years ago. That I weigh more today than yesterday does not matter, as long as it is still below the trend weight.
Let the counting begin!
Date. . . . . . . . . . . Daily Wt . Trend Wt
Monday, April 6, 2009 . . .378.8 . . .380.0
Sunday, April 5, 2009. . . 379.8. . . 380.2
Saturday, April 4, 2009 . .378.2 . . .380.2
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Oh, The Insanity of it All
So of course the very first day my weight goes up from the day before. And that was with only having a bowl of cereal and some raspberries for supper. But I had chicken wings and drummies for lunch. I guess those go off the menu, too.
Bought a bag of lentils. Those were hard to find. Had to ask three people at the grocery store until we found someone who knew anything about them. They in with Mexican food. Go figure.
So, now I have a bag of lentils. Have to start looking and find recipes which use them.
Got a pedometer yesterday, but not until late. Managed about 400-steps before shutting down for the night. Today I'll wear it all day and see what I get. (I've a feeling I'm not going to be exactly close to 10,000-steps.) Woke with a horrible, painful cough in my chest. Lovely spring cold. Well, if I'm hurting so bad I probably won't eat much. Then I'll lose weight!
Except I remember seeing a dietician back in the '90s. I would see her once a week. I still remember showing up the week after my first visit all proud because I had lost nine pounds. She got angry and chided me about being stupid. You never want to lose more then three or four pounds in a week. If you do, you're starving yourself and not developing a life-long habit. The idea is to create a way of living you can live with.
I lost a lot of weight going to see her, but I also went broke. All of those fresh fruits and vegetables cost a bit of money. Back then what I was confronted with was the reality that for $3.00 I could buy three or four apples, or one box of macaroni. The three or four apples satisified three or four snack requirements. The box of macaroni would supply six to eight meals for my spouse and myself. But it worked while we had the money.
A few years ago I purchased the treadmill. I was heavier then than I am now. When I began I wasnt able to go faster then 2.5-m.p.h. or longer than five minutes. That was right when Spouse and I were starting up the gift business, so I was home a lot. I would walk six times a day. At the start of each week I increased my time by one minute. Eventually, I was walking six miles every day, and I was losing about four pounds each week. I actually got down to 340 pounds, well on my way to the goal. And then I got carried away. I started playing with increasing the treadmill's angle and, worst of all, began speeding up my walks. What I did was create a scenario in which I had to walk abnormally in order to keep up. The result was I woke one morning unable to get out of bed. Had to crawl around the house for three days before I could walk. It was a week before I was walking normal again.
And I've never been able to return to the treadmill and keep a routine since. That psychological block which has nothing to do with the treadmill and everything to do with my silliness. I gained back sixty of the eighty pounds I lost and have been sitting there for years now.
When I was young I was thin. Skinny even. I could eat like a horse and hardly gain a pound. But I was so into sports and being physically active. Then, in my late-twenties that changed. That was about the time Stephen and I separated, too. By the time I was in my mid-thirties I was quite the blimp. When Stephen found me again I was fat.
I started losing weight again, but then people started to die all around me. Including Stephen. I kind of didn't care anymore. Then I got to thinking about Son being embarrassed to be seen with me and I got the treadmill. Well. I'm going to give it another go, okay?
You know, I thought I did really well yesterday. True, I didn't use the treadmill, but I was out and walking. And I didn't snack! D*mned hot wings. Why do they have to taste so good! With bar-b-que sauce? Umm. Ah, sorry. Fully expected to have dropped almost a pound. Instead, I'm up. Well, at least I was still below the trend weight. The trend weight is the real key. As long as my daily weights are below my trend weight I'm technically losing weight.
Maybe I should have just put all of this onto its own blog. Then I could moderate seven blogs! I must be out of my mind.
Bought a bag of lentils. Those were hard to find. Had to ask three people at the grocery store until we found someone who knew anything about them. They in with Mexican food. Go figure.
So, now I have a bag of lentils. Have to start looking and find recipes which use them.
Got a pedometer yesterday, but not until late. Managed about 400-steps before shutting down for the night. Today I'll wear it all day and see what I get. (I've a feeling I'm not going to be exactly close to 10,000-steps.) Woke with a horrible, painful cough in my chest. Lovely spring cold. Well, if I'm hurting so bad I probably won't eat much. Then I'll lose weight!
Except I remember seeing a dietician back in the '90s. I would see her once a week. I still remember showing up the week after my first visit all proud because I had lost nine pounds. She got angry and chided me about being stupid. You never want to lose more then three or four pounds in a week. If you do, you're starving yourself and not developing a life-long habit. The idea is to create a way of living you can live with.
I lost a lot of weight going to see her, but I also went broke. All of those fresh fruits and vegetables cost a bit of money. Back then what I was confronted with was the reality that for $3.00 I could buy three or four apples, or one box of macaroni. The three or four apples satisified three or four snack requirements. The box of macaroni would supply six to eight meals for my spouse and myself. But it worked while we had the money.
A few years ago I purchased the treadmill. I was heavier then than I am now. When I began I wasnt able to go faster then 2.5-m.p.h. or longer than five minutes. That was right when Spouse and I were starting up the gift business, so I was home a lot. I would walk six times a day. At the start of each week I increased my time by one minute. Eventually, I was walking six miles every day, and I was losing about four pounds each week. I actually got down to 340 pounds, well on my way to the goal. And then I got carried away. I started playing with increasing the treadmill's angle and, worst of all, began speeding up my walks. What I did was create a scenario in which I had to walk abnormally in order to keep up. The result was I woke one morning unable to get out of bed. Had to crawl around the house for three days before I could walk. It was a week before I was walking normal again.
And I've never been able to return to the treadmill and keep a routine since. That psychological block which has nothing to do with the treadmill and everything to do with my silliness. I gained back sixty of the eighty pounds I lost and have been sitting there for years now.
When I was young I was thin. Skinny even. I could eat like a horse and hardly gain a pound. But I was so into sports and being physically active. Then, in my late-twenties that changed. That was about the time Stephen and I separated, too. By the time I was in my mid-thirties I was quite the blimp. When Stephen found me again I was fat.
I started losing weight again, but then people started to die all around me. Including Stephen. I kind of didn't care anymore. Then I got to thinking about Son being embarrassed to be seen with me and I got the treadmill. Well. I'm going to give it another go, okay?
You know, I thought I did really well yesterday. True, I didn't use the treadmill, but I was out and walking. And I didn't snack! D*mned hot wings. Why do they have to taste so good! With bar-b-que sauce? Umm. Ah, sorry. Fully expected to have dropped almost a pound. Instead, I'm up. Well, at least I was still below the trend weight. The trend weight is the real key. As long as my daily weights are below my trend weight I'm technically losing weight.
Maybe I should have just put all of this onto its own blog. Then I could moderate seven blogs! I must be out of my mind.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Respecting One's Elders
We just got home from the library. Spouse and I drove to school to bring Son home, but along the way we went to the local library. AC suggested I read Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austin, and LaughingWolf had posted a bit of a review on Legacy of Secrecy, by Lamar Waldron, which I thought might make an interesting read.
So of course the library had neither of those books. I put myself on the waiting list for Pride and Prejudice. They never heard of Legacy of Secrecy. They said to check back in a month. Spouse and Son got the stuff they wanted. [pout]
So we get home and what does Son say to me? Let's go down and exercise. Well, I didn't feel like it, so I offered a suggestion: How's about I don't exercise today, but go twice tomorrow? Son responds with: How about we exercise once today and once tomorrow? Who does he think he is? He's only twelve years old. I would never have dared speak to either of my parents like that. I respected their authority (and that they would beat me to a pulp if I did). Of course, neither of my parents would have given me the admonition I gave Son when we began this whole thing: No matter what I say, unless I'm honestly sick (and not faking it), or some other emergency occurs, don't let me get away with not walking. Unfortunately for my laziness, Son is still very obedient.
So I walked. Even though I'm the parent and he's the Son, I did what he said. Why? It's all about respect. If I didn't walk, I would lose his. That would be far worse than any discomfort I would feel taking a short stroll.
So of course the library had neither of those books. I put myself on the waiting list for Pride and Prejudice. They never heard of Legacy of Secrecy. They said to check back in a month. Spouse and Son got the stuff they wanted. [pout]
So we get home and what does Son say to me? Let's go down and exercise. Well, I didn't feel like it, so I offered a suggestion: How's about I don't exercise today, but go twice tomorrow? Son responds with: How about we exercise once today and once tomorrow? Who does he think he is? He's only twelve years old. I would never have dared speak to either of my parents like that. I respected their authority (and that they would beat me to a pulp if I did). Of course, neither of my parents would have given me the admonition I gave Son when we began this whole thing: No matter what I say, unless I'm honestly sick (and not faking it), or some other emergency occurs, don't let me get away with not walking. Unfortunately for my laziness, Son is still very obedient.
So I walked. Even though I'm the parent and he's the Son, I did what he said. Why? It's all about respect. If I didn't walk, I would lose his. That would be far worse than any discomfort I would feel taking a short stroll.
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