Getting a bit pudgy, are you?
Never thought I’d miss those zero-dark-thirty Navy PRT sessions in the gym. You know, flashing a fake grin at the admiral who is sweating it out on the elliptical (does she ever miss a day?). Trying to outshine a chief on the mat with my snazzy sit-up regimen.
Nope, I don’t ever recall enjoying the 0500 drive to the torture chamber or the gossipy showers stalls.
But here I am, back home after a year of active duty recall with the Navy. Another weekend slips by without punching my card at the gym which, this time, I’m paying for in monthly dues. I shudder at how easily my excuses are working these days.
So, no more peer pressure to perform physically. No judgmental glances when I help myself to a second (or third) cookie. How I longed for this day — and how I’m paying for it now. For all my whining, I’ll say this about the military’s “culture of fitness” it did keep me in shape. Which makes me wonder, what if the same type of pressure was applied in the civilian workforce?
What if, at the end of a staff meeting, our boss lectured us on the virtues of weightlifting? Or required us to sign in each time we showed up at the gym (as the admiral did)? Could a co-worker get away with poking fun at our too-full plate and expanding waistline at the company picnic the same way the chiefs did at Friday socials? I’m guessing not. But it would be, err, fruitful, in a way.
So next this week I’ll really get in a workout, or maybe even two. Really.
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