Workouts, receding hairlines, and panic attacks

Opinion
CHUCK
VANDENBERG

I put in 30 minutes of roadwork Sunday morning before the Vikings game came on.

After I got two blocks in, I started to have a small panic attack. That’s been happening lately. In 2018 I’ll be 50 years old.

I know – you’re all spitting out your coffee right now and wiping your mouth with your jammie sleeve.

“No way that dudes 50!?”

Well. yeah. And a couple weeks ago I went to watch Justice League  with Lee. Now in all fairness my wife says she really doesn’t like beefy guys and I used to be a beefy guy… to some degree anyway.

“I don’t like all those muscles on guys, she said. But the proof is in the pectorals I believe as her favorite actor and her mancrush is Gerard Butler. Whose isn’t, right?

But he’s got some muscles to him and it just so happens that she started liking said beefcake after watching 300. I think he worked out a little for that movie.

Also, and I feel like an attorney here, but evidence shows that she’s a huge Avengers franchise fan. I’m gonna say something that will make you spit your coffee again, so just a forewarning – she saw the original Avengers movie in theaters at least 14 times.  That’s right – we PAID for it at least 14 different times. (Even with that knowledge, Sen. Grassley’s statement was still idiotic).

So when I asked her if she would go see Justice League it surprised me a little. The night we went to the movie she showed me Aquaman Jason Momoa’s, workout video on some YouTube or Facebook video. It really was intense, but she was watching it. Momoa makes Dwayne Johnson look like Tiny Tim.

So with all evidence in, I don’t think she stomps her feet and throws her hands up in the air when these folks show up with no shirt on.

But I’ve got a 6’2 frame and if I’m at my optimal weight of 210 to 220, I do all right.

So sitting there in the theater, I glance occasionally at my wife, while simultaneously brushing popcorn crumbs off the belly that somehow has been finding a way to pop up when I slouch in my chair. As I munch on more pieces and use my peripheral to watch her watch Momoa I think, “I got one more in me’.

So I said this is the week I start putting the package back together. Tina Hauck at New Dimensions cuts my hair. I really don’t want her to cut it off, I want her to put some back on, but I guess she’s just not good enough for that. I mean for real, aren’t they called hair dressers? Well dress it up.

Her suggestion, “I think it looks less thin on top, if we cut it short on the sides. Dontcha think?” Sure Tina. I said, “Yeah, makes me look like Rich Eisen.”

“Who’s Rich Eisen?”

No tip for you.

No – seriously Tina’s awesome, it’s my head that’s not.

So I figure she keeps the top looking as good as her talents will let her, and I should start working on the rest.

I hit the road at about 10:30 Sunday morning, I’ve got my headphones in with One Direction setting the pace, my zip up zipped with the hood pulled over my balding head – a perfect target for any neighborhood dog running loose, and I’m on my way.

I get two blocks south and one west, Geezus, I can’t breathe. STOP IDIOT. Ok… just relax. Breathe through your nose – stay calm – keep moving. Better call the wife to come get me, this isn’t workin’ out. No….just keep walking and breathing. Look down at the sidewalk and listen to the music.”

It starts to work, so I gradually pick up the pace again. Yeah…this will work. A quick walk, it’s better than sitting in the chair with the tv on and this dag-blasted laptop on my lap.

Then the endorphines kick in. For those of you who don’t know, Endorphines are troll-like imaginary friends, with really big ears in my case, in your head that say, “ooooh, wussie boy, this kinda feels good, right? Pick up the pace a bit.”

So I do that. And whatya know I’m jogging a couple blocks in between walking a couple. There are some people in this town that get after it on roadwork – Matt Rump, Matt Mohrfeld, Matt Hellige.  Wait a second…., do I have to change my name? I don’t look like a Matt, if anyone looks like a Chuck – it’s me. Self-deprecating humor is fine as long as you sprinkle in confidence.

But I got through it…and hopefully tomorrow I’ll get at it again. We’ll take small steps. It won’t grow hair but it will grow my heart.

The YMCA is next. I need to throw some weights around. That’s gonna hurt. My goal, take off about 30 pounds around the belly and in the legs, put on some mass upstairs and make sure she’s looking at ME like a Mimosa.

I know…I know. She loves me for my mind and heart and daddy-ness.

Maybe this is just a little for me, too.

But that’s Beside the Point.

About Chuck Vandenberg 2945 Articles
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