Call me weakling

My ongoing self hatred for myself has increased greatly this past week. I realized I am a sniveling weakling trapped in a six foot tall body. For years I deluded myself that although I carry a few extra pounds I was athletic.  Never in my life have I passed myself off as an intellectual but more as an active guy. If I skateboard I try to be a good skateboarder, if I run I try to run far and fast. I’m not that into organized sports or a ‘jock’ but I’ve always been impressed by my own athletic prowess. It appears my abilities come up a little short.

On Saturday I had simple blood work done and a physical. They did a standard walking in a straight line one foot after the next with the heel touching the toe with each step.  On the last step I lost my balance and almost stepped out of the straight line. The doctor perhaps didn’t see it, or ignored it, or hid his disgust well. I think miss stepping in the act of walking in a line was an omen for what would happen later in the week.

On that Saturday and Monday I hit the gym. I felt my elliptical workouts were beneficial and more so than the stationary bike that I did for a few weeks. I was finally getting into the routine, looking better, and simply a better person. I planned to go to the gym on Wednesday night but on my commute home from work I got a phone call. My colleague and friend needed help moving a few things out of his old apartment into his new apartment. Once in college I was asked the same thing from someone, to help them move. I said no, and always felt bad about that. I’ve moved around a little bit at this point and I know now when people move they need help. There are timeframes and logistics. Plus from being in stellar shape, doing a little moving would be easy. So I said I would help him move his stuff.

I got a dinner out of it at a popular Mexican restaurant in Forest Hills. We sat a small table and two women sat near us. Over the meal at some points we flirted with these women and that was cool, but both of us were too stupid to ask for their number or take it to the level beyond pleasantries. The place was crowded, so it took awhile for our meal to come. I had a heavy meal, two sodas, and had a cool conversation. My friend had two sizable margaritas, this is important as this blog progresses. Normally after a dinner with a friend I would go home, or go somewhere else for fun. But there was a reason for this meal, and that was to move stuff.

Most of his stuff was moved and it was three boxes, a backpack, and a couple of duffle bags. We debated to get a cab for this stuff or to walk it. My friend said it was a few blocks to the subway, then a few stops on the subway, and then a few blocks at the end. I picked them up and they did not seem that heavy. It was late and perhaps waiting for a cab would be annoying. Plus if my friend could do this meant I could too, right?

There is nothing wrong with my friend but he wears preppy clothes, is less than average height, and I don’t associate him with being athletic.  He can be very entertaining in his self depreciating humor, and he knows a lot about literature and politics. But I’ve never heard him say anything about sports. Perhaps he mentioned hiking once, but I assumed sports and exercise were not part of his life. He is not like me who in the perfect world would be a professional skateboarder. I don’t associate my friend as having pursuits or fixations like that.

Okay so we are out the door with these boxes and bags. I go about a block and my back was killing me. I look over at my friend and he is walking along fine. I state that I need a break, and we stop and he laughs. And while I rested he kept holding his boxes. It took awhile to get to the subway, and my friend seemed unfazed by it. Maybe it was that he had a few margaritas, but he seemed to be enjoying himself quite a bit. The subway ride was a good break. The last few blocks were torture and at one point my friend carried much more than me because of my exhaustion. We got to his new apartment and dropped off the boxes. It was kind of fun night and different but on my walk home I had to ask myself, why was I so much weaker than my friend? Now I think it’s cool that a friend that I didn’t think was athletic is actually strong. I don’t move things much, and overall it’s a silly comparison to make because everyone has there own individual level. But I think I’ll step up my workout routine anyway.

This is something I do too much, and that is comparing myself to others.  Other people drink, other people are better at certain things, whoever has more money, that guy gets more girls, and so forth. I think ‘keeping up with the jones’ is a natural tendency. Being competitive can be a good thing because people improve that way. But it’s good to think of ways to improve myself, and not always compare myself to other people. I’m only in control of one person and that’s me.

I think moving that stuff was overdoing it for me.  I am exhausted and I will get some rest.