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My first sixteen days to shape up for a fall moose hunt


March 19, 2008
As lifestyles change, so does the waist-line, if you know what I mean. And if you've got a hunt planned for this fall in rugged territory, that waistline could make a truly great hunting opportunity pure misery.

As I grow older, as all of us seem to do, getting in better physical shape takes much more time than it used to. So there is no better time than right now. Or so I thought.

Randy___column
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Improved diet and exercise are the keys to better health, of course. Disciplining yourself to pass on an extra helping of mashed potatoes and gravy is step one. Pulling yourself from a warm and comfortable couch is step two and keeping at it is step three.

Just that simple, ahh right!

I recently joined a local health club to help in my plan to get into a more respectable physical condition. And to more fully enjoy my upcoming moose hunting trip to the mountains of British Columbia.

The owner, Nick, is a friend of mine and offered to help me in my cause. Closing in on my mid-fifties, I can use all the help I can get.

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My wife seemed pleased with my enthusiasm to get started and encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress.

I learned a little about myself along the way....

Day One:

I joined in September, it's now February and I finally made time to get myself to the health club. Did I mention procrastination?

Nick seemed surprised to see me, "I thought you quit before you got started," he scolds, "I've been waiting for you."

Now Nick is an all- natural body building champion, a former high school wrestler and a good look-ing, highly determined young man. There are a few pictures of him on the wall, flexing his considerable muscles in one of those body building poses we've all seen. Nick gave me a tour and showed me all his machines of future torture.

"Let's get you warmed up a little," Nick instructs, pointing to the treadmill.

After five minutes on the treadmill he asks if I'm okay, sweat rolling from my forehead, and my face a flush pink. He then had me do a few sit-ups, although my gut was already aching from hold-ing it in the whole time on the treadmill. This is going to be great.

Day Two:

Nick had me lie on my back and push a heavy iron bar into the air - then he put weights on it! This guy is tough on me, but I can handle it.

"Back to the treadmill," instructs Nick. My legs were a little wobbly, but I made it a full mile. Nick seemed pleased with my progress. This is going to be GREAT! A whole new life for me.

Day Three:

The only way I could brush my teeth this morning was to lay the brush on the counter and move my mouth back and forth over it! I believe I have a hernia in both pectorals. Driving was okay as long as I didn't try to steer or stop. Nick was impatient with me today, insisting that my screams bothered the other members.

My chest hurt when I got on the treadmill, so Nick put me on the stair monster, err...stair master. Why would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity now obsolete by elevators? Nick told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy my hunt more. He said some other stuff too, I wasn't buying it anymore.

Day Four:

Thankfully I came down with a very bad flu bug and wasn't able to go to the club.

Day Five:

I'm going to milk this sickness for a few days, Nick is calling the house, so I quit answering the phone.

Days Six, Seven,

Eight, Nine and Ten:

Still sick and I've never enjoyed the flu so much!

Day Eleven:

Started feeling guilty about not working out, after all, I hadn't lifted anything heavier than a sandwich for years. I had better get to the club. Nick punished me, even though he seemed concerned at first.

"Today is my favorite day," he stated proudly with a bit of a snarl. "It's leg day!"

Oh my God! I'm not sure I'll ever walk again.

Day Twelve:

I was late for my workout, it took me a half hour to tie my tennis shoes. Nick told me to work out with dumbbells. When he was not looking, I ran in and hid in the women's lockerroom.

He finally found me and as punishment he put me on one of his other torture machines.

Day Thirteen:

I'm looking at Nick a little differently today. I don't think I like him anymore. To tell the truth he's a &*@#*& and if there was a part of my body I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat him with it.

Today he wanted me to work on my triceps and biceps. I don't have triceps! "If you don't want dents in your floor, don't hand me those &*&#@#* dumbbells," I tell Nick.

The treadmill flung me off today and I landed on one of Nick's newest members.

Day Fourteen:

Nick leaves a message on my answering machine, wondering where I am. I can't stand the sound of his voice. I hide in my own house. I smashed the recorder.

Felt sorry for myself, didn't even have the strength to use the TV remote and ended up watching six straight hours of the #@&?** Weather Channel.

Day Fifteen:

Somehow I summon the courage to call Nick and tell him I'm not going on the hunt and not coming back!

Day Sixteen:

Go down to the Country Smoke House and order some moose meat.

There has to be an easier way to reverse years of inactivity, laziness and pure procrastination.

If you find one, well email at: rjorgensen@pageone-inc.com

As so it goes.

Castle Creek
Van Dyke Gas
08 - 18 - 17
01:06
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