Less Floppy: A Midlife Exercise Manifesto

I found a way to break down my resistance to exercise.

Two bun-buns were humping in my neighbor’s yard this morning. Small and fawn-brown, with stubby rounded ears and slender white feet, these guys are everywhere in our new neighborhood. They’re wily and clumsy and remarkably expressive for creatures who live so low to the ground. 

Humping is just one of the vigorous activities the buns enjoy. Late the other night my Hubz looked out the window and saw 5 of them tearing down the street all in a row, like Rockettes high-kicking across a stage. Sometimes they swarm a dense patch of clover right under our kitchen window, attacking the greenery like vultures gnawing on a fresh carcass.

They prefer moderate weather for these shenanigans, and our Seattle spring (chilly and overcast, otherwise known as Maycember) has been quite accommodating. But there have been a few days where the temperature climbed too high for the buns to do much of anything except mope. They came out at noon and draped themselves across a shady patch of lawn, waiting for the heat to pass. 

I only know this because Hubz clocked them doing it, and got down on the floor to show me exactly how they stretched themselves out to their full length. At this point I should mention that H is very tall, the length of, let’s say, 12 fully-stretched bunnies, and when he was down there he took up the whole length of the hallway. I couldn’t have walked around him if I tried. 

He does stuff like this because it makes me laugh hard, the kind of laughter that repels the darkness of the world. It’s fucking delightful to see a middle-aged man use everything he’s got and commit to the bit. 

Physical comedy takes a strong degree of physical conditioning, especially as we age. Hubz was a college athlete and is used to steady discipline in his exercise regimen. Before I met him my main form of exercise was carrying my guitar and amps to and from the stage. Carless for decades, I walked everywhere. Occasionally I did some light physical therapy to heal a bad shoulder, and I took a Pilates or Hot Yoga class when I could afford it. But stretching? Cardio? Weights? Almost never.

Marriage has some cool benefits, and Hubz’ good habits have rubbed off on me. Now I do a dedicated routine 3 times a week that’s been keeping me, if not tight, then at least less floppy. In fact, I think I’m actually stronger at 50 than I was at 40, something I never thought possible. But I don’t love working out, alright? There are many days when I wake up wanting to forsake the gym completely. I lie there cursing the entire concept and the people who invented it. Sometimes I burrow down into the covers like the buns burrowing into their lair. 

I can’t break through this resistance without help, and I know how to get it. I stand up and throw on my workout clothes. Then I grab my emotional support water bottle and fill it with H20 and electrolytes. I do a bit of light stretching, then I cue up the song that kicks my ass and makes me shake it, “I Feel For You” by Chaka Khan. 

I know the song is corny in that uniquely 80s way, a neon bricolage of weird synths, record scratches, and programmed electronic drums, but Fam: it was written by Prince, and you can feel the steely spine of his musical genius in the chords and melody. For that matter, is there a more powerful or soulful vocalist than Chaka? Her wild roaring gives the song its magnificent, infectious joy. I dare you to resist her. The best part? The song is just over 5 minutes long, enough to jog, pedal or climb an elliptical and get your blood pumping for a workout. 

We don’t need to train for full marathons, or 10-day hiking trips, or even bunny-style humping (unless that’s your thing, in which case, vaya con dios!). But I do want us to keep dancing, and for that we’ve got Chaka, lifting us to our sneakered feet. Aging comes with things you never saw coming, weird aches and pains and mental hell pits. Recent studies show that exercise can be just as effective as talk therapy in treating depression. A body in motion tends to stay in motion, and we deserve to feel at least as good as buns in the Spring.