Working Out with Dad


Rhiannon and I have a new routine. Now that I am in Phoenix, I am keeping Illinois hours, so I work from 6:30 to 3:00 everyday (and more at night). This allows me to pick Rhiannon up from kindergarten, and I've got about three hours of quality time with her before mom gets home. So what to do with all that time? Well, dear old dad rocks a desk all day, and has done so for almost thirteen years. Post-grad-school, I weighed 165. I now weigh 217. My ideal weight? 185. So, it's gym-time for me. I hope to be at 200 by Thanksgiving.

I invite Rhiannon to come along. "Hey, Rhiannon?"

"Yeah, dad?"

"Let's go exercise! And then we can go swimming!"

Rhiannon is absolutely jubilant at this. She saw people working out last night at the pool, and has wanted in, in, in.

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"I need to put on my special workout clothes."

"Okay..."

Me: swimtrunks, Latin t-shirt (yes, I have them...), socks, shoes (those are called "trainers" in the UK btw), water.

Rhiannon: hot-pink Hannah Montana swimsuit (sigh), Ariel water shoes, and a hoodie that would make Rocky Balboa proud. Or maybe a little silly because it is kind of small.

Off we go to the gym.

"Which way?"

"This way."

"This way?"

"Yes. That way."

"OK."

We unlock the gym door and walk in. It is empty. Apparently people in Arizona are at work at 3:30 in the afternoon. Go figure. Anyway, the gym has two treadmills, two elliptical cycles, one stationary bike, two Nautilus machines, and two racks of freeweights. There is also a yoga mat and a big, pink yoga ball that's about two feet across. Guess what Rhiannon goes to first.

Rhiannon flops on the ball and is abruptly bounced away at a comically awkward angle, Ariel shoe arcing through the air, Rhiannon headed in the opposite direction.

Rhiannon gets up laughing. "Let's do it again!"

So I let her literally bounce off the walls while I get on the treadmill to get rid of pound no. 1. Rhiannon, always an observant child, stops her catapulting and steps onto the other treadmill, hits the green "Quick Start" button, and is off to the races.

"Dad, this is too slow."

Dad, less than 0.1 km into the run, stops, goes over to Rhiannon's treadmill, dials up a manual pace of 1.0, and starts the machine for her.

"TOO SLOW!!!"

Okay...how about 3.0.

"DAD, THAT'S TOO FAST!!!"

"It's a running machine, Rhiannon. Run!" I am half-joking with her. But she does a little bit and then decides to play on the elliptical machine instead.

I go back to my "run".

Rhiannon is having a hard time gripping the handles to her machine, and settles for gripping the front bar and stomping on the foot platforms. She is so light that nothing happens. So she goes off and climbs on the stationary bike.

"Dad?"

I am 0.2 km into my run. "What?"

"I can't reach the pedals!"

This from a girl who is scared to death of anything on two wheels.

"Okay."

I make some adjustments, but it's not enough, so she decides to play on the yoga ball some more while I get back to my run. It's quiet for about five minutes as she fiddles. I then hear a few clanks, and turn around to see Rhiannon lying down on a bench in the middle of the room with a 10-pound dumbbell on her chest. She is trying to press it, succeeds, and then the weight goes off-center and takes Rhiannon along with it, right off the bench.

"OW!"

I hit the "Emergency Stop" button (this seems to qualify), and run over to her. She's OK, just surprised. So I give her a lecture on always having a spotter, and to maybe start with a five-pound weight instead. So I help her lift a bit. She goes back to using the ball to project her into orbit, and I get another five minutes in on my "run".

"Dad?"

"Yes?"

"Are we done exercising yet?"

"I guess so, Rhiannon. Do you want to swim?"

"YES!"

"Okay. Let's go."

We head out to the pool, and I do complete my workout by throwing her into the air, carrying her on my shoulders, helping her do flips, running her around the pool, and having swimming races with her. And that made both of us very, very happy, and one of us very, very tired.

Goodbye, pound no. 1.

Rhiannon. Breathtakingly cute.

Andrew (Papa)