First thing every morning I place my Apple Watch on my wrist and begin working toward the goal of closing all three fitness rings. I’ve had the watch for over a year now and had never gotten all three rings closed.
I’ve come close on multiple occasions, usually while enjoying a day at an amusement park. A couple of times the stroke of midnight coincided with ring closure and I fell short of my goal.
Yesterday, though, I made it happen by running errands around Tallahassee. First I closed the blue stand ring after 6 p.m. but then I always close it, so I didn’t get too excited. I did note, though, that both of the other rings were considerably further along than usual.
I decided to go for it. First I headed to the elliptical machine that Studly Doright bought in a fit of fitness fever a couple of years ago. I’d kind of forgotten about it. It’s probably been used for two hours total since we put it together.
After roughly half a minute on the machine I was huffing and puffing, yet I pushed on to the minute mark. I wondered briefly if I was having a heart attack, but my breathing settled down fairly quickly and my heart rate looked surprisingly good.
I walked, jumped, and danced around Doright Manor, pumping my fists into the air, scaring the cats and amusing Studly.
“Have you finally lost your mind?” he asked.
“Yep,” I huffed. There was simply no time to explain.
“Well, I hope you find it before Vikings comes on,” Studly countered. “I don’t want any distractions.”
I might’ve flipped him off. Behind his back, because in this case it really was the thought that counted.
The green exercise ring closed next. I whooped and pushed on to close the red move ring. The elliptical was put to use again along with more dancing, leaping, and erratic arm movements. I was going to do it.
Now, it would make a better story if, perhaps, a wild boar had broken into the house and devoured me, or if a wayward satellite had fallen onto Doright Manor smushing me and my Apple Watch to smithereens just before the third ring closed, but the boring, yet satisfying truth is, I closed all the rings just in time to join Studly Doright for our weekly Vikings viewing date. Finally! A couch potato victory.
Of course I tossed and turned with leg cramps all night, and the smell of Tiger Balm wafted through the house, but by golly, if I did it once I can do it again. Just probably not today.
Oh, tonight’s the night I’ll be reading one of my blog posts at Salon 621 in Tallahassee. I’m not nervous. That’s what I’m telling myself anyway: “I’m not nervous. I’m not nervous. Really, I’m not nervous.”