In the deepest, darkest, recesses of my home sits the most
intimidating beast known to humanity. Even as I think about it now,
my thighs start to quiver and my knees ache.
Although most likely, the reason for that is that I know when I
interact with the beast, my thighs really will quiver, and my knees
really will ache.
I remember the day the beast first destroyed the comfortable, lazy
atmosphere of my basement. It was a fateful day, indeed. It started
when a shirt button wedged itself free from the front of my shirt.
The button zinged across the room, and tried to attack the love of my
life.
She pointed toward the garage, and said,
"Let's go."
We walked into a luxuriously laid out showroom, which was clearly
reserved for the affluent. I promptly turned around seeking the
door. Alas, my beloved must have anticipated that move. With her
firm grip on my arm, we (or at least, I) cautiously approached an
entire row of the intimidating beasts.
A friendly face came up behind me, and I whispered in his ear.
"Can we see the self-propelled models, please?" The look
on his face clearly revealed it was an overused question in his line
of work.
Even here in the showroom, the beast stoically beckons the daunted
passerby. Much like it does now, in my basement.
With a confidence and vigor that I did not share, my wife
approached the beast. To my astonishment, she actually seemed to
admire the thing. I have to admit the sleek, silver, and black lines
of construction and the rock-solid stance would have been appealing,
if it were not for the hidden agenda that defined the beast's
purpose.
"We have to think of our health," my loved one purred in
my ear, as her hand snaked its way toward my back pocket.
"But that thing frightens me," I blurted out.
"You need this," she said, patting my stomach.
"It's so expensive," I protested.
She whispered in my ear sweet promises of what I could have after
travelling a few miles with the beast. My resolve melted, and the
credit card flew out my wallet.
***
The next day I welcomed the beast into my home and stood gently
caressing its frame. The deliveryman smiled as he described where I
could and could not touch. I was as excited as a kid in a candy
store was. I could not wait to start my daily interaction with this
new thing in my life.
I swore the two deliverymen were chuckling to each other as they
walked away. Were they making fun of my exuberance? Did they
honestly know something that I did not?
Day One, I delightfully glided down to the stairs to interact with
my new friend.
Day Two, I cursed the awful creature and turned on the TV instead.
Day Three, with stern encouragement from the one I love, I trudged
painfully down the steps.
Day Four, I professed my vexation with the world from beneath the
safety of the blankets.
Day Five, after, the one I love upped the ante, I gritted my
teeth, and I attacked the beast once again.
Day Six, I resolved to undoubtedly prove to my beloved that two
days in a row, would in fact, kill me.
Day Seven, I awoke still alive, and weakly admitted she was right.
Day Eight, I started the whole ritual over again.
This went on for quite nearly a month. However, soon my quivering
thighs and aching knees overwhelmed my good intentions. A thin layer
of dust enveloped the beast's silver sleekness. The candy store
excitement had ebbed into a casual wave with a coffee cup as I walked
by. The bright flicker of the LED display extinguished for what I
hoped was eternity.
***
Nevertheless, the woman I married remained undeterred. The next
illustration of her love for me found me on the examining table in a
doctor's office. The doctor sat on his little rolling stool,
glancing back and forth from me, to his folder full of forms and
charts, to my wife, then back to me.
"I know you know what I'm going to say."
"No." I feigned my ignorance.
"The E word."
"I told you so!" my wife exclaimed in delight.
"It's really easy," the doctor continued, "all you need
to do is buy a nice quality stationary..." beast.
Of course, he did not call it a beast. His word for it sounded
more like the romantically infused expression that the salesman had
used.
Regardless, the thought drove my chin into my chest, as my
emotions fell into the depths of the dark basement, literally.
***
So, that is my story, sad but true. I sit here this morning,
using only my fingers to share my thoughts. My quivering thighs and
aching knees will not allow me to do much of anything else, right
now. Not right after a heart-pounding ride on that huge monstrosity
of a stationary exercise bicycle!
|