Okay, this squeaking has been driving me bonko. It’s so loud it competes with my wokrout music. We’re talking seismic loudosity, here. So today the repair guy shows up. Nice guy, knows his stuff because all he does, all day every day, is go around assembling, fixing, and disassembling ellipticals and treadmills. I pick his brain while he works.

Which brands are trouble, I ask. Which are trouble-free? Does he own an elliptical, and if so which one? And so on. Continue reading

Had a store-bought peach today (see tomorrow’s post on this), but it doesn’t seem to have the same effect. Maybe it’s the peach, maybe it’s the x-ray series. Have to try again later. Because my “speed” on the elliptical has been steadily rising, it’s also hard to gauge the x-rays’ lingering effects (if any): less time at greater speed doesn’t necessarily mean overall performance is declining. In fact, it could mean the opposite. (Though I still say the x-ray kicked the s@#$% out of my performance for a few days there.) Continue reading

Veering into the natural foods world with Michael Pollan’s In Defense of Food (FSB post), and then into the industrial food system with Food, Inc. (FSB post), I thought I’d venture farther down the rabbit hole and look into these GM (genetically modified) foods (sometimes called GMOs for genetically modified organisms) everyone seems to be complaining about. I mean, after reading about all the other crap we put in our bodies—can GM foods possibly be any worse? In a word, yes. In three: Holy f@#$ing s%&*t! Continue reading

Still feeling subpar while on The Machine, and still blaming it on the x-rays. But I manage to go a minute longer today, at a faster pace, so I’m headed in the right direction. And it occurs to me to wonder, given all this energy I’m expending, whether that big, fast-spinning wheel behind me might be used to generate electricity. Could be a whole new business model there. I resolve to do some quick research and see if anyone else has thought of this. Continue reading

I’ve always been one of those people who throws food away one day after the date stamped on the container. (Well, okay—sometimes it’s more like a month after, but only because I didn’t find it until then.) It wasn’t something I really thought about, unless I desperately wanted whatever-it-was that had expired (hopefully recently) and the stores were all closed. A recent article made me rethink this. Continue reading

I think it’s safe to say the x-rays had an effect, as today’s workout lasts a mere 12 minutes. True, I got too little sleep, and had no peach, but still—12 minutes? On the other hand, that’s 12 more minutes than I used to exercise each day, so perhaps I shouldn’t beat myself up. Continue reading

Went to the dentist today for full-mouth x-rays, and mostly what I think about as I sit in the chair is this: Will these x-rays somehow affect my workout performance? Afterward, I pick up a small jug of organic carrot juice and swig it down to combat free radicals.

For some mysterious reason it occurs to me today that I don’t have to rely on The Machine’s RPM readout—which, if past experience is any indication, is about as reliable as the FDA’s pronouncements on food safety. (About which, more to come.) Continue reading

Had a peach yesterday, got distracted with an upcoming dentist’s appointment and forgot today. I must still have peach juice in my blood, though, because my recent 16-minute record now seems ancient history.

I run the clock up to 17 minutes before leaving The Machine—2 minutes less than my last 2 workouts but still quite respectable. Coincidence that I had no peaches today? I think not. Continue reading

The squeak is really starting to bug me. Time for a bit of exploratory surgery. I remove the cowling that covers the highest pivot point on the moving handles, then work The Machine. Still squeaking.

I kneel on the floor, working The Machine’s action with my hands this time. No squeak. Suspicious, I have a friend hop on and start cranking. Aha! The squeak is still there; it just needs someone to step on it before it squeals. Continue reading

I’ve always wanted to use the word redux, so there it is. I’ve always wanted to be fit, too, and peaches seem to be helping—so here I go again. Sans warm-up. (I like that word, too. Perhaps I was more French—and less fat—in a former life.) I have another two just-picked peaches, wait a few hours, and hit the pedals.

The Machine squeaks loudly today–really loudly, like there’s a chicken tied inside and I’m kicking it with each stride. Shakespeare’s ears twitch with each new squawk. To compensate, I crank the Heroic Soundtrack just short of plaster-peeling volume. Continue reading