As you read this, can you tell how svelte I am? With much reduced body fat and serious abs?
Of course you can’t, because I have gained weight since I bought my stupid used treadmill.
Last year, as I was approaching another milestone — ’55 is the new dead’ — I decided to shed 10 pounds, which is a lot of gut on a middle-aged Hobbit.
At first, I decided to lose weight and get all kinds of lethal by taking kung fu. How clever is that? I would get buff AND kick *Bruce Lee’s butt. I still have my manuals from when I studied kung fu in university. So I figured it would be just like riding a bicycle.
And it would have been except for two minor problems.
First, I could slowly and badly do blocks, catches and kicks. But remembering them? And adding more each lesson? Forget it. My brain and body would simply say: Que?
Second, my abs of pudding and elbow of glass meant that kung fu really hurt this time round — from the moment I started to stretch to the moment the paramedics carried me to the hospital. Sadly, I had to bail on kung fu, so Bruce Lee remains **safe.
Fitness Plan B was to get a treadmill, something suitable for the whole family! Even my wife whose two claims to sporting fame are: 1) spraining her ankle in 1983 the first time a tennis ball was hit to her, and, 2) there is no number 2. She is that athletic.
So I went to the local Testosterone R Us fitness store to price new treadmills. The basic models started at $10 million. Not even. I began searching for a used treadmill on Trade Me, our version of eBay.
When my brother-in-law found a “steal” for me, I hit the ****BUY NOW Button. Bought that sucker for $250, sight unseen, before anyone could beat me to the amazing bargain. I mean, the auction blurb said it was only about 3 years old and had been used just a few times by the seller’s parents, who had no legs.
And it really was great!
We put it in the basement so Bruce Springsteen could wail while I walked fast enough to sweat like a pig and burn off thousands of calories. The get-fit plan was going along brilliantly until No. 1 son decided to start working out at home, actually running on my used treadmill. So, of course, a teeny tiny worn place on the tread soon became the Grand Canyon.
Cost to repair: $300 for a tread from China plus another $300 for installation. Summary: I’d be out $850 for a used treadmill that, come to find out, was actually 7-10 years old. Sigh.
So the dead treadmill got dumped, and I got seriously pissed about getting ripped off. Because I am all mature and work from home, placing me in close proximity to anger-suppressing Oreo’s, I have gained back way more than I lost on the treadmill.
But, I am all kinds of resourceful and have a new plan to get fit. It came to me while eating Oreo’s and watching TV.
The incredible Ab Circle Pro promises an ****** “easy way to get the sexy sculpted body” I’ve always wanted. Dude, I am about to get sooooo ripped with this space-age machine.
Or maybe I’ll learn to dunk a basketball. The sky is the limit. Stay tuned.
* Because he’s dead
** Except for being dead
**** Huge sucker
****** Bend over, sucker
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