Yesterday, I did the office tour, which brought up the treadmill desk thing again, which got me thinking. And not happy thoughts.
See, the treadmill desk, when I first set that up, I was walking my ass off. Literally. Dropped close to twenty pounds in the first few months. And then? Shit happened, life intervened, inertia set in. For whatever reason, I got out of the habit. I’d hop back on now and again, but what had been a daily exercise became a desultory charade. Most of that twenty pounds is right back where it started.
So I look like shit. Well, big deal. With my face? So what. But I’m 52 and I’m obese. I know, we don’t like the O word. We say big, we even say fat. But the fact is, if I don’t change my ways, I’m in for an early and probably unpleasant death.
I’m going to try to blog my way out of this. On this very blog, the weight of public accountability and the threat of public shame got me through two online novels, so maybe I can use those same tools to save my own life. Sounds dramatic, I know, but that’s how I have to think about it.
This isn’t about writing, though, and that’s what I’m reserving this blog for. No, this is about editing. It’s about cutting at least 20 percent off my person before that 20 percent cuts off a good chunk of my life. So I’m documenting this business on its own blog, GOING NOWHERE FAST. If you want to join in the fun, I could use your support – or, if I fail to keep pace, a good, swift kick in the ass.