Getting high...the natural way

Hmmm....it is a wonder I took this long to get around to writing this, something I believe in with all the conviction of the modern thiest (and believe me, it is an astonishing quality) - can any religion boast a turnover anywhere close to that of the religion of the body? - minus the mind-numbing ignorance, of course.

"Physical exercise is the best way to pamper your body"... and it ranks higher on the list than a bag of double- cheese French fries or the creamiest Swiss chocolate, to boot!

So what is so relevatory about the statement? Well, nothing, but if you just popped that question reclining in the cosiest receptacle in sight, with legs propped on the desk and a cushion to relieve the pressure on the small of your back, then you have some serious revelations to make your own.

One of the few regrets of my short life is that I hadn't awakened to the massive benefits and pleasures(yes,pleasures) of exercise earlier, when I could have taken matters commandingly into my hands and sculpted the perfect body(strange words emerging from my mouth....sigh...), and not be saddled with stretch marks that adorn practically every expanse of my skin, which is taking on the semblance of a Bengal Tiger's. The cycle is now familiar to me: sudden weight gain, that desperate resolution to shed that ugly tuck, furious activity in the days to come... and a few more of the blemishes to show for it. And they begin red and angry, each like a huge leech bloated on a diet of blood, clinging stubbornly to the skin. And though they do fade in colour, the ravaged skin bears testimonial to their birth, imaginatively streaked and victim of a million elongations and compressions of varying intensity.

But the culprit in this scenario is undoubtedly the lethargic teenager. In high school, the lack of physical activity took the necessary toll, plus cruel duties, on the form, and I was unrecognisable, struggling to expand in all directions, like a weed straining for sun, given a glimmer of light. 'Rotund' didn't do me justice. I was 'round', 'roly-poly', 'stout', FAT! And dawning apprehensions had long ceased to be much good. The exercise-bike I exhorted my parents to get me lay untended in the corner, after periodic bursts of use, when the trauma of a glance into the mirror would spur me onto accomplish a miracle. Of course, the sporadic efforts punished the skin, which was in two minds: "to stretch, as this kid who overstuffs himself with abandon prompts me to, or bend to corrective measures such as this, which are clearly not here to stay?" The compromise lead to the internal ruptures that characterise 'stretch marks'. The sole bout of typhoid I ever contracted reversed the trend briefly, but caused further complications.

So I grew, in all the wrong and unhealthy ways. My conception(then) of exercise as a means for weight-loss corresponded to the numbers in the exercise manuals. 10 minutes - 300 calories; need to burn 3500 per pound = ..... I sweated a lot even back then. Just that the body couldn't keep up with the distending rate. And immediate results were not forthcoming. So defeated, I resigned myself to the effects of teenage obesity.

Of course, the diet helped in no small measure. Full cream milk, ghee, savouries, the occasional bar of chocolate....I must remark that I am so constructed as to pack on the pounds like magic, when the food's upto it. So, in short, I tipped the scales at a gross 86 kilos when I stepped into IIT.

Now the food at hostel messes is probably geared at long-suffering people such as the self. It is filling, all right, but I never mistook it for Mom's ghar ka khaana. Which is probably for the best. For the temptations effectively out of the way, I decided to avail of the shockingly cheap sporting facilities made available to us. So I joined the gym. Just for laughs. I didn't expect the heavens to open up or anything.

I don't recall pushing myself very much initially, at least till one day I caught sight of myself in the bathroom mirror. The first shock passed, and I realized the body was straying back into the acceptable 'bounds' of shapeliness, finally. There was, as they say, no turning back after that. I never missed gym sessions, and pumped up the intensity(sometimes too drastically), watching the kilos melt away with a deep satisfaction. For the record, my weight at the end of the NCC winter camp was around the 73 kg mark.

Unreasonable?....No harm trying

And it only gets better. With lots of expert advice, backed by my personal experience at sustained jogging, gym, swimming regimes, I have pretty much figured out the optimal means of weight-control. And it feels GREAT! When I see people slogging it out once, twice a week, and then taking bedrest for a month (:)), or doing all the wrong things such as the lazy canter over a million turns at the track, or straining all parts of the frame during crunches, except the crucial one, I happily spread the wisdom to them, while feeling really special every day, post-exercise. And I weigh a trim 68 kgs now!

Now I am aware I may never look like those chiselled physiques that with one inflection set a million visible muscles into smoothly pleasing motion(and I blame that on past neglect, but don't lose my sleep over it), but it is remarkable how much of the journey is well within reach, and enjoyable, eventually. Every body is created to look well-proportioned, with very few, hopeless exceptions. It is just that it needs some upkeep, and in some cases, like mine, a lot of that. Everyone's built differently. But staying fit is fun, and so are remarks such as "You look good", "You've shed some" and "Adonis, ahoy!"...

Ok, so that last one was fabricated....

So is this intended as a morale-boost for those frustrated with weight-loss techniques? Or an enthusiastic recommendation of IITM mess food? Well, finally, we all know the drill "Balanced diet+exercise+commitment", and let me confirm that each is as important as the other, and that it takes a lot of hard work...I very nearly didn't make it, and aches and sprains will torment you like nobody's business, but hey, I feel good, and am not complaining...