My step-dad died of a heart attack in August 2007. I miss him.

I’ve avoided writing about missing him because I feared it would make my mom sad. I hope it doesn’t; maybe it will make her smile.

My mom married my step-dad when I was very young (around 6 years old), so I have only the faintest and vaguest of memories from before my step-dad was in my life. My real dad stayed a very close part of my life — we all continued to live in my hometown — so my step-dad didn’t replace my real dad, he just supplemented him. Most kids have one dad, (real or step). I and my brother were lucky in that we had the benefits of two dads.

My step-dad was a kind and generous man. Patient and helpful. Funny and smart. He definitely wasn’t the stereotypical step-parent, and that’s why I call him my “step-dad” rather than my “step-father.”

He was a hunter, (mostly white-tail deer), and he was often in the woods early in the morning during October, November, and December. I went with him occasionally, but I was never a good early morning person.

He was a cook. I absolutely loved his venison, and his sweets during the Christmas season put many pounds on everyone. His love of cooking is part of the reason why he got into the restaurant business — his main career was teaching heating and air conditioning repair at the local community college.

He was an occasional drinker. He’d get good and buzzed sometimes at parties and such, but he was a good drunk. Drink made him even funnier, and silly.  He didn’t drink often, and his being tipsy never troubled or embarrassed me.

He was not a dancer. Oh he’d try. He’d get out on the dance floor and jig like he loved it, but good lord the man just didn’t have rhythm.

He was always there for me when I needed him. Between him and my real dad, I never had a lack of a good male role model in my life. Having two good men in my life meant I could always find advice when I needed it.

I think about my step-dad from time to time, just during normal daily life, and there’s still a pang of sadness knowing he’s gone. I’d love to give him just one more hug.

Bullgrit

Yesterday, me and my boys were in Target together, picking up items we each needed. The Calfgrits had some saved up allowance for toys, and I had to prepare for my upcoming workout regimen.

Calfgrit9 was buying a small Lego Halo set, and Calfgrit5 was buying a new Bionicle. On the cashier aisle conveyor belt, I put a pair of weight lifting gloves, a workout mat, and a pair of yoga blocks.

When the cashier girl got to my items, she commented, “Interesting choice for Valentine gifts. Or did your wife specifically ask for this?” She was smiling mischievously.

I was kind of taken aback. First, just because I’m buying something on Valentine’s Day, doesn’t mean the something is a gift for my Valentine. Second, why the assumption I’m buying this stuff for my wife, instead of just for me?

I explained, “It’s just coincidental that I’m buying this on Valentine’s Day.”

“Oh,” she replied and finished ringing up the sale.

After the transaction, as we were walking away with our bagged purchases, I thought more about the girl’s comment. Is there something inherently female about what I bought that made her think it was for my wife? I mean, weight lifting gloves? Surely lifting heavy weights is not considered a feminine activity.

A workout mat? These things are in every gym I’ve ever been to, (including my old martial arts gym), used by both genders — I’ve done sit ups and push ups on these things many times. Maybe if this one was pink, I could see assuming it was for a woman. But this one’s a dark green.

The yoga blocks? Yeah, I’ll admit that I tend to first think of yoga as a woman’s activity, but really, it’s not exclusively for women.

After thinking about the situation for another minute, I came to the idea that maybe she just thought I looked in great shape already, and therefore didn’t need workout gear. Yeah, that’s good.

Or maybe she looked at me and figured I was in such sloppy shape that I’d never bother with a workout.

No. She definitely had to think I was buff enough, and didn’t need the equipment. I’m satisfied with that explanation. It makes the most sense to me.

Bullgrit

It snowed last night, for the second time this winter. At least this was a “good” snow — the roads are clear. The grass and trees are all white, but the roads and sidewalks are all just wet, not iced and coated over with white.

Surprisingly, the boys haven’t said anything about wanting to go out and play in it. That’s fine with me. I guess being cold and wet once a year is enough for them, too.

Bullgrit

I’ve mentioned here, a few times, how I’m not in the physical shape and health that I used to be in. That I want to be in. During my younger days, I was naturally thin, and I kept satisfactorily toned and healthy by irregular workouts. During my early 30s, it was tae kwon do, 4-5 days a week, that kept me in good shape.

In the past 5-8 years, I’ve put on some extra padding, and my muscles have gotten soft. This distresses me. I really miss having a relatively tone physique (though I was never really “ripped” or “buff”), and I don’t like the “getting older” feeling that has started enveloping me, lately. I need to do something about this.

I’ve never tried a fad diet or started a fad exercise routine. I’ve been able to drop 10 pounds a couple of times through just cutting back on the junk food and desserts. But although the bathroom scale shows the change in numbers, I never see a real difference in my physique. 10 pounds off my size is noticeable, but without a corresponding increase in muscle tone, I still look “soft.” I need the strength and tone and endurance I had back during my superhero days.

But I need more than just a gym membership, and random self-directed workouts. I need guidance, a measurable goal, a regular routine, and a challenge.

I’ve seen the P90X infomercials on TV a few times, and I find the workout advertised, intriguing. A couple of weeks ago, I stopped my channel surfing to watch more of one of these commercials. Out of curiosity, I tried a couple of the exercises demonstrated, and maybe I’m a masochist, but I found them very cool. Very cool because they’re very hard.

Something about the “hardcore” workout really interests me. The concepts of challenging exercises, an hour a day, every day, with definite results in 30, 60, and 90 days, got me to looking more into the program. I found lots of reviews of the system, and many photos of people before and after going through the system. (Photos not presented by the makers or marketers of P90X.) I even got the approval of my resident medical expert (my wife).

So I ordered the system, and the box just arrived last night. I’ve got some reading, studying, and planning to do before I start the program, but I’m already excited about it. Heck, even before the box arrived, over the past few days, I’ve felt energized just thinking about taking on the challenge.

Honestly, I think the challenge has become half the reason I’m going to start this. I haven’t had a real, hard physical challenge since my black belt testing, nine years ago. (I always felt great after a hard martial arts training session.) At this point, the resulting body shape is just a secondary thought.

I know this workout routine is going to kick my ass, and that’s gonna be fun as hell.

Bullgrit