Adrenalin just can’t be trusted

Do you ever have an idea that sounds really good when you first have it?
You rub your hands together in anticipation and can’t wait to get started. Adrenalin kicks in, and your energy and enthusiasm soar to new heights.
Adrenalin. I think adrenalin, at first glance, seems like a good friend—someone you invite for tea for the first time and think this could be a life-long friendship.
But then while she sips your herbal, tea she destroys your home, transforms it into a pile of rubble, before she finally leaves and you look around and think, “Gee, what was I thinking?”
Adrenalin can’t be trusted. It makes us do all kinds of stupid things. Our computers are equipped with anti-virus software to keep it from going crazy and destroying itself. Our bodies should come with anti-adrenalin equipment installed—devices that keep reason and common sense on top.
The only time adrenalin is helpful is when we are running from a hungry bear. The rest of the time, adrenalin tells us things that aren’t true. We are not superman or superwoman, no matter what adrenalin says. It’s all a lie.
Let’s look at the facts. Again.
Read bulletin board at grocery store. See advertisement for Over 55 Active Aging program. Consists of workouts to increase fitness, strength, balance, and anything else that went out for cigarettes and didn’t come back.
Sign up and pay ridiculously small fee, and rub hands together in excitement. Shake head in disbelief for such a wonderful opportunity. Active aging. What a great concept. Think you can turn back the clock by doing jumping jacks and squats.
Imagine yourself in a bikini. The idea is almost titillating, giggle-inducing even.
Show up at first class. Wear loose T-shirt so weakened abdomen isn’t so obvious. Look at other participants smugly, painfully unaware of your own stupidity.
Start jogging on treadmill. “Wow, this is easy,” you say to yourself. Adjust the incline to “Himalayas.” Keep running.
That friend, adrenalin, that you invited for tea is just beginning to rip off the front door.
Keep running. Try to hide look of disdain to participant on next treadmill running sensibly.
Get off treadmill. Fail to notice the small stagger to your step. Floor must be uneven.
Go to the mats with exercise ball and weights, and receive instructions to do 12 leg squats on one leg while holding the other foot off the floor. Bend while holding weights at side.
Tell instructor that you need to double the weights because you can’t even feel it. Adrenalin has now moved to the second floor and is tearing out the walls.
Don’t stop at 12 leg squats; go right through to 86. Keep doubling and tripling all exercises. Fail to grasp the concept of easing into the fitness program.
Is ease even in your vocabulary? Adrenalin says no such word exists.
Do 375 jumping jacks. Adrenalin is whispering in your ear. “Ahh, this is a piece of cake. Do it faster. You’ll be younger sooner. Go, go, go!”
Keep up ridiculous pace for the full hour. Feel like running around the fitness centre with arms fully extended over your head. Feel the power. Feel your youth return to your muscles and the bounce to your step.
Almost collapse on to the floor. Stop to take a sip at the water fountain. Try to move. Legs won’t work. Walk by throwing whole body forward. Look like you’re auditioning for zombie movie.
You can no longer feel your ankles. Thighs are screaming. It’s deafening. Try to do stairs. Impossible. Grasp railing as if it is a lifeline. Pretend to busy yourself reading the graffiti on the stairwell walls while everyone else walks by you—everyone who seems to have grasped the concept of moderation.
Drag body to vehicle. Adrenalin is nowhere in sight. Smile happily. Answer with, “No, really, I’m fine” to all concerned queries as to why you can’t get into your car.
Car keys are too heavy. Can’t lift them out of your purse. Can’t pull the seatbelt around you.
Decide to spend rest of life in gym parking lot.

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