exercise addiction

On a recent post, I shared my (and Eminem’s mutual) addiction to running.

And how our bodies (his hip flexor; my Achilles) both have suffered as a result.

(Hashtag: comparing myself to famous people helps me feel relevant.)

And… to be honest… I wasn’t sure whether to post this here or on a fitness related site I write for. But, seeing as exercise addiction has become a serious-but-not-prescription-habit-level-serious reality for me, I opted to at least address it here. Why? Because if I don’t broadcast it out loud, then I’ll carry on with that whole “denial is just a stream near the Sphinx” thing which does dos cosas: A.) me a disservice and B.) deprives you of the opportunity to say “Holy soleus, Batman: I’m guilty of this too.” You see, Eminem humbling himself enough to realize he had to back off (and being kickass enough to share his story about it) helped shed a little light on the matter for me. So, I’m trying to do what I’ve been taught about good insight: keep what you have by giving it away.

See, Mr. Mathers did the math and realized he’d hafta find a good non-impacty shoe in for his shoes smacking the belt of a treadmill for more hours he spent awake than not. I, on the other hand, have been a tougher sell – even when held as a captive audience to the constant carnival of pain permeating my ankles. Thus, I’ve begun asking myself: Could I at least try looking at other cardio options that I can do outside? (That’s my thing – outdoor exercise). Things that don’t make me wake up walking like an alien that just overtook a body and isn’t sure how to ambulatorily conduct it yet?

Surely, there’s something out there for me…

Well, for one, I see other people taking their bikes out and they always seem pretty happy to be doing what they are (or are they just grimacing?) Plus them Schwinners are winners of slimness, typically with a body karate of a level black belt. Not a bad side effect if the high’s as good as it seems (they always look so determined unpacking their two wheels from their 4-Runners and blissful by the time they return). What’s the benefit of biking? Well, there’s less impact for one. I hate the idea of my toes not touching the ground… but I’m totally open to it.

Or I could kick it old school with the roller blades. In the park I frequent (most of them, really), there’s a nice pedestrian/bike lane shaded by a cathedral of tree foliage and low traffic (on the weekdays, at least). The nice thing this has over biking is that A.) It’s cheaper. B.) It’s a happy medium where at least my feet can kinda feel the ground beneath me. C.) It’s a total arse and thigh workout that could potentially land me buns and gams of the Brazilian Barbie variety. Not bad.

Then again, I could mix up what I’m doing during my actual run. What if the whole thing wasn’t just impact stuff? What if I spent five to ten minutes at the middle or end of my jog doing forward lunges toward my destination? Bounding plyometrics? Squats even?

And, finally, adhering to the old acronym R.I.C.E.R. would probably do me some good: rest, ice, compression, elevation, and referral for therapy. Because, in the end, you’ve gotta find what works best for you… by seeking out the help of someone schooled on the subject of ouchery and how to solve it. Granted, I’ve got the advantage of working in a health field. But up until recently, I’ve been like that one cancer doctor who knows better but sneaks out for a smoke every fifteen minutes anyway. Not practicing what I preach. Had I sought some advice earlier, I might’ve rowed right outta that water body of “whatever, I do what ah want” with pyramids on its periphery and been enjoying my moderate jogging routine. I’d also be feeling less like a Hostel abductee and more like my superhero self.

So, if you have the wherewithal to halt your habit, great. Go create a personalized plan with a professional. (That’s always the first step, isn’t it? Reaching out for a hand with your heel, hip, or heroin habit?) But if you’re a jogging junkie like I am, there’s a chance I’ll be seeing you at la casa de calf cast. ‘cause we both know I’m a cautionary tale who may or may not adhere even to my own good advice. This is normally where I’d say good luck to you and sign off. But for now – let’s just say it to each other, agree to try making better decisions, maybe phone a fellow fiend about it, and definitely phone that guy with the white coat to check it out.