The Fit Life

Believe it or not, there was a time years ago when we had the idea of making the Northern Express something of a fitness magazine.
Back then, I used to share my belief in the power of fitness to transform society with other newspaper publishers. They’d look at me like I had rocks trickling out of my ears. Well, maybe so, but then, as a group, members of the Fourth Estate tend towards workouts that don’t involve much more than melting into the arms of La-Z-Boy recliners and bathing in the light of a Sony Trinitron.
But we soon ditched the idea of making this a fitness rag because it became apparent that reading about exercise is about as stimulating as singing about cooking. As reading material, fitness isn’t a subject that’s likely to light up the Christmas tree of neurons decorating your brain. Like the Nike commercial says, you have to “just do it.”
But I still believe in the power of fitness as a democratic force that can change the world for the better. After all, the poorest person in our country can be “richer” in terms of personal fitness than the wealthiest person if he or she simply makes the trip. You can be a miserable, overweight, hypertensive, diabetic, impotent, neurotic millionaire on the one hand -- or a healthful, toned-up, slim pauper with all your parts working on the other. Or vice-versa. The choice is yours.
Not everyone buys into such Pollyanna views. There’s a funny article in the December issue of “Vanity Fair“ that slams the “type A narcissists” of the fitness crowd for the losers that we really are. And I quote:

“The great misconception about gyms is that they’re palaces of vanity, theaters of self-love where the shallow preen and pump in front of 10-foot mirrors with devoted narcissism,” writes A.A. Gill on a tour of New York gyms. “Actually, it’s precisely the opposite. Gyms vibrate with self-loathing and doubt. The mirrors mock. People come because they’re disgusted by or frightened of their bodies. Going to a gym is an admission of failure. It’s the realization that you’re not forever youthfully regenerating. Your body isn’t a temple of fun and fornication anymore; it’s a decrepit, leaky, condemned shell that is decomposing faster than you can shore it up.”

Perhaps some of that is true. The same ideas are expressed by Ben Stiller’s gym-owning villain in “Dodge Ball.” Stiller succeeds by making his clients feel lousy about their bodies, driving up memberships in his fitness empire.
But what’s the alternative? Most of us fitness junkies would rather keep vainly pursuing that “temple of fun” thing as long as possible, rather than surrendering to a sedentary life. Where, after all, is the fun in being a slug? Where is the reward in becoming a victim of atherosclerosis, diabetes, heart disease and other lifestyle ailments that come with sedentary living? Better to burn out than fade away, as some sage noted.
And the author misses the point, as do most people who are turned off by exercise. Most of us work out not so much to tone our bodies, but to quiet the space between our ears. Working out is a way of flooding your mind with the sunshine of endorphins at a time of year when it’s dark out at 5 p.m. There aren’t many S.A.D. people in the gym or out on the ski trails. Fitness is a way of
using your body‘s vitality
to crack the black ice of stress in your life.
Consider that more than 18 million people suffer from depression in our country -- about six percent of us. In response, we’ve become a nation awash with antidepressants such as Prozac, Zoloft, Celexa, Luvox, Effexor and Paxil. And the drug companies are pushing to get even more Americans on antidepressants, selling us on the idea that pills are the only way to get our heads together.
Is it possible there’s a more natural way to find happiness? Perhaps by using your body in the vigorous way that nature intended?
And while some may disagree, there are those who do indeed feel that a daily hour of aerobics, yoga, weight training, skiing, running or cycling can indeed make us younger. It’s an ephemeral feeling, like the brush of a sparrow’s wing crossing your cheek, but it’s there: younger. And the older you get, the more worth that feeling has.
A month in the gym during the nasty, coldwinter months? $30. Results? Priceless.


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