Stop me if this story sounds cliché. I was an athlete in college. I ran a marathon just to say I did. Then joined the track team, racing around the track and around campus going from class to class. Staying fit was easy. I could eat a large pizza or a box of pasta in one sitting. “Self conscious” was not in my vocab.
Then I got a desk job, kept my unhealthy college eating habits and slowly watched my form transform. My weight went up and my health declined.
Facing my new self, I ditched my late night takeout habit and ramped up my exercise to get things under control. But now that I’m married and a dad with another kiddo on the way, I have a new phrase on my mind:
El diccionario urbano describes dad bod “as the type of physique a man "earns" when the increasing pressures of work life, married life, and especially fatherhood no longer allow him the time or drive to maintain a hard, toned figure. As a result, what was once a sculpted, chiseled frame degresses into a soft, flabby heaping pile of…” you get the idea.
Pop culture has glorified it, even calling it sexy or whatever. But let’s just say I don't care what other people say about it. I don’t want it.
Here at Fully we have the option to workout together with a trainer before work twice a week. And when it’s not raining on the weekends here in Portland, I try to get on my bike right when the sun comes up to get some rides in before the cars come out.
There’s truth to the notion that as you get older, staying fit gets harder. I don’t run as fast or as far as I used to. I don’t jump as high and I’m definitely less flexible. But every bit of fitness that I've recovered was earned with hard work.
And I’m not waking up at 6 am to avoid traffic on my bike, or to sweat with co-workers so I can slouch in a cheap office chair all day. I plan to be fitter at 40 than I was at 30. Staying fit is hard enough and I don't want to let my work day get in the way of that.
Over a long enough period of time, the little things add up. So I try to stand at my Jarvis in the morning, in meetings and whenever the mood strikes me. I fidget in my chair ALL-THE-TIME which probably drives my co-workers nuts, but it keeps me moving, keeps me active and feels good - so they can deal with it.
The way I see it, those of us who are able to move and who care about the way they feel can either embrace the slow decline to dad bod, or fight it. I choose the later.