Lean, mean, fighting machine

"You're so cute," my wife says to me today after I tell her excitedly about my first session with a personal trainer.  Cute?! What's she talking about?  I'm on a path to become a lean, mean, fighting machine.  I'm anything but cute.  I'm a seething caldron of athletic rage about to be let loose in the form of a transformed body.

"It's just so cute how you can continue to show the same level of excitement and enthusiasm every time you start a new workout program," she says to me, "It's like when you tell me every three weeks that you fixed your golf swing."  I had to laugh at that.  My brother and I have a running gag where every time we talk we tell each other that we fixed our swing.  I suppose one could see an element of pathetic, delusional hopefulness in my constant declarations of having fixed my golf swing.  But I don't see it that way at all.  The way I see it, golf swings are in constant need of fixing, so why not be excited when it gets fixed.  I'm not saying it's fixed forever; all I'm saying is that for a brief time it was fixed and a fixed golf swing is about one step short of heaven.  As I explained to my dear wife (who thinks I'm cuter than a puppy), while history suggests that my swing will not stay fixed and that I will not train until I've become an Olympic athlete, it's important to dream the impossible dream.    What's the alternative, I always ask.
 
Of course, dreaming the impossible dream without taking daily steps toward that dream is a waste of time.  This became clear to me last week when I enthusiastically played my first competitive tennis match in over 20 years and unceremoniously had my head handed to me -- not by someone who is more gifted than me, but by someone who plays the game regularly.  I play sporadically and, consequently, inconsistently.  That won't cut it.  So I'm taking some measures to get back where I need to be.  And as I explained to my kids yesterday, the same principle applies to bigger life issues.  We need to set a course and take daily measures to follow the course.  In the parlance of one of our church leaders, the daily formula was articulated as "Study diligently. Pray fervently. Live righteously."  We've started saying that in the morning to set the course for the day.  And now, after a marathon session of watching Friday Night Lights, we follow that up with "Clear eyes. Full hearts. Can't lose."   Tomorrow I'm going to have everyone put their hands in and give a final cheer "Go Wunderlis!" before leaving the house.  I'll let you know how that goes.