If you’re a regular reader, then you know I’m not your guy for writing advice. I mean what do I know that you don’t? You got the same dictionary I got – pick out the right words, put ‘em in the right order and you’re a freakin’ genius.
The only rule I have is the famous ass-in-chair rule. You gotta sit down and do the work. At least it was the only rule I had.
Problem is this. The ass I was parking in that chair? It gets any bigger, it’s gonna get it’s own delegation at the UN. Something had to be done.
I ain’t no John Hornor – that PX 90 thing or whatever the hell it is he’s doing, that’ll shrink my ass by killing me dead so the thing can rot away and feed a few billion worms. But I like to think I still got a little spring in the old mortal coil, so I don’t think I’ll shuffle the sucker off just yet.
I know the math. Eat less, exercise more or some combination of both. Burn more calories than you consume and you’ll get smaller. Thing is, I know me. Them calories, they’re just gonna keep going in. Something’s gonna have to happen to use some of them up.
Which leads to the other problem. My ass is in the chair all freakin’ day. Ass is in the chair for the day job. Ass is in the chair to write. Ass is in the goddamn chair for Twitter and Facebook and blogging and TV. Ass is in the tub to read, but I don’t think that helps any, other than keeping said ass clean, which I guess matters given its verging-on-monumental size. That thing gets funky, I’ll have the EPA on, well, my ass.
But as of today, I’m taking the ass out of the chair. I can hear the great hue and cry. “No, Dan,” you say. “The world has need of your genius. Steve Weddle needs his Mammon. Chuck Wendig needs more recipes. Hilary Davidson, well, she’s got plans for you, she just ain’t saying what.” Relax, people, I said I was taking the ass out of the chair. I didn’t say I was hanging up my pen. Or should I say my laptop – I haven’t written anything longer than a check by hand in 20 years.
I’ve heard about these treadmill desk things for awhile. You mount your ‘puter on a shelf up front, and you walk along whilst you type. Now, you wouldn’t think it to look at me now, but I used to be a jock, I got sufficient coordination to pull that off. So I started poking around online. A couple of companies actually sell the things, but for a few zillion bucks. Other folks have some funky home-made versions, many of which involve somehow mounting a shelf to the treadmill itself.
Thing is, I like my office. I think you ought to have a nice room to work in. The ready-made versions? Not only are they ridiculously expensive, they’ve got that metal-and-plastic cube-farm mien that’ll suck your soul out just looking at them. The homemade options? They look like mutant shop-class projects. I needed another option.
So here’s my solution. I picked up a couple of bookcase kits and put those suckers together – always need more bookcase space anyway. Attached them with a ledger board to stabilize the whole deal and anchored that to the wall. Picked up a couple pieces of black shelving, made a frame for that, and then mounted it between the bookcases on 4” bolts so I can swivel it up out of the way in case I actually want to run on the damn treadmill (or, you know, walk fast). A couple of clip lights for lighting, a little black spray paint where I used raw lumber and, in the words of the immortal Hans Landa, That’s a Bingo!. The treadmill itself? Used for $399. All in? Less than $700.
I’ve been working at the treadmill desk most of the day and it only took maybe 15 minutes to get the hang of the walking and typing thing. Can’t walk real fast – I’m keeping it at 1.3 miles an hour, but I’ve goosed the incline up to six degrees and I’ve put in better than six hours. Don’t know what that translates into in terms of calories, but it translates into something – and it’s a something I can put in pretty much every day without doing anything other than standing up.
So instead of whistling while I work, I’m whittling – my ass, that is.
Nice work! I saw a news bit about people walking the treadmill at work recently, and I just thought to myself, “How can you concentrate?” Maybe I’m just not the most coordinated of peeps, but I would worry about falling on my face while trying to type. Or just the whack-ass breed of carpal tunnel you’ll get.
Personally, I like to keep my exercise and my writing times separate, but it’s an interesting idea nevertheless. Keep us posted on how the “mobile office” is going!
One of the reasons I mounted the shelf on a swivel instead of fixed was so I could change the angle of the desk — I have a series of holes and metal pins and can swing the thing from horizontal down to about 35 degrees. Moved it around a couple times today just to change the angle of my wrists.
That’s pretty awesome, Dan. I’d never heard of that before, to be honest with you. Don’t think I could pull it off. I think my crazy dog would go apeshit at the sight of a person on a treadmill anyway. When I go out in the garage and work the heavy bag she goes totally nuts and has to be locked in the backyard until I’m done.
Me, I love the couple hours a day away from the computer that I devote to putting in exercise — usually an hour in the morning and then another hour in the afternoon/evening. I think I would go insane without it. Then again, I don’t have a commute or anything to deal with, nor do I watch TV, so that probably gives me more time than the average person has.
But goddamn, good on ya for coming up with a solution you can live with. You’ll be a better man for it, you’ll see.
Thanks, Chris. I’ll let everybody know how it goes. I used to have a heavy bag in the basement — I should ge a new one. Good for blowing off steam if nothing else. My dog’s been pretty cool about the treadmill, though he does seem puzzled by it.
Is that the heavy bag you lug around a golf course? I’m waiting for the new season of Dan vs. Phil golf exploit stories.
I’m impressed and inspired. Ass in motion is the new rule.
What exactly did Dante do whilst all this was going on? Have you tried putting him on it?
Holy crap.
You’ve married two completely inconsistent lifestyles. And it worked.
Huzzah.
— c.
I had a standing desk made once, stood at that fucker for 8 months, feet throbbing.
I wish I’d done like you, but I doubt they’d let me install a treadmill here at the office. Very cool.
Remember – lighting is important.
Great post. An alternative I am toying with is using a bicycle on a trainer instead of a treadmill. A lot less moving around that when walking or running, and also it isn’t so hard on the feet and back. People weren’t made to have their asses in a chair all day, but they also weren’t made to stand for hours at a time, especially on a hard surface.
Speaking of which, where the hell is my Mammon?
My good pal Donald Rumsfeld had a standing (non-treadmill) desk in the Pentagon. Also, I believe Mr. Philip Roth also writes standing up. Or wrote that way. He might be dead.
But amen on the heavy bag. I use this time — wrists taped, gloves on tight, Rage Against the Machine blaring — to let the body separate from the mind. Jab-jab-cross, and so forth. Once I’m in a good rhythm, the mind starts to float off into Idea Land. Why would that dude do that in last night’s chapter? Should I make it clearer that the chick from the library is the same chick from the strip club? Bam-bam-slide.
I’d imagine you can zone-out on the treadmill in much the same way.
Dan,
You probably know that Hemingway wrote everything standing up.
But my sport is swimming. What sort of set up do you think I could manage to swim and type at the same time? You see, I don’t like to sweat but am also sick of sitting all day long.
I see a lot of girls at the gym with books on the panel of the ellipticals, but I could never get the hang of running and reading.
Hey Doug! Golf is great exercise. Unless, of course, you’re good at it. Then it’s just fairways and greens. Ditto for those who have mastered the one-way miss. Me? I support the troops with my army golf. There’s a couple of extra miles in every round.
Bold. Brilliant. Innovative. I like it, Mr. O’Shea.
I may have to modify my plans for you.
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