Annoying Habits

“I think you might have sleep apnea” Jenny tells me after I wake up this morning. “You hold your breath for like 2 minutes straight and just make this really weird high-pitched noise. I nudged your leg and you started breathing again.”

I broke a molar on a Skittle a couple of weeks ago (I guess that’s what I get for interrupting my 2-month streak without sugar). I don’t have money for dental co pays right now, let alone cash to spend on special machines for people who can’t manage to multi-task well enough to sleep and breathe at the same time.

I don’t know why I’m thinking about these things while straining to keep two 100-pound dumbbells from falling on my face, but I am. Lifting weights has become my little escape from work. The weird thing is; I don’t even feel like lifting today. I’d rather go sit by the lake and relax.

“Anthem for the Underdog” is being pumped into my ears. I think I like this song so much because it reminds me of the day Jenny and I interviewed Red. 12 Stones played that song for their sound check while we were visiting with bassist Randy Armstrong. It’s pretty damn catchy, too.

A little drop of spit flies out of my mouth as I exhale for the 6th rep. I really don’t feel like lifting right now. My form gets weak on number 8 so I drop both weights. They hit the floor with two exaggerated thuds.

I sit up and look into the mirror. I’m sweating and wearing a dress shirt. Bad combination.

There are dark bags under my eyes. I smile a little because the beard stubble, sweat, and tired eyes make me look pretty sick. I’m wondering if I look bad enough to get sent home if I tell my manager, “I think feel the pig aids coming on.”

I’m walking out of the gym and the girl at the front desk says, “See you at six, Dan!”

That’s a little odd, I think. How could she know when my next break is?

But then I realize that I, Dan Workman, for the first time in my life, have developed a routine.

When I got transferred to the Texas office I was so excited to have a gym in the building. My goal was (and still is, unrealistic as it might be) to give Jenny a six-pack for Christmas. I’d been reading the Men’s Health and Fitness articles and many of them indicated that if I used more weight with less reps, I could maximize the overall impact of my workout. It is also a well-known fact that more muscle burns more calories throughout the day.

So, I made it my goal to go to the gym on every break. That is three times a day for a total of one hour. It’s been surprisingly effective. I’ve dropped about 5 pounds but I’m pretty sure I’ve added on muscle. In fact, in one month I’ve increased my max bench weight from 240 to 325. That’s 85 pounds in a month. I think that’s pretty good considering the hormones in cheap milk are the closest thing I have to steroids.

The strange part, however, was developing a habit without meaning to. The moment my break starts, I walk down to the gym. Even if I don’t want to, it’s like my legs are on autopilot.

So I'm starting to wonder if there’s something to this routine thing. What would happen if I immediately went jogging first thing in the morning for a month, or automatically picked up a book every time I felt like watching TV, or instinctively drank a glass of water every time I felt like having an Ultra-Violet Diet Mt. Dew?

Who knows, really? It’s all probably voodoo anyway. Plus, I really like TV.