My childish vanity

A CARTOON OF MY FORMER SELF

Motivation.  Sometimes we have it, sometimes we don't.  But I do know it changes over the decades.

In my twenties and thirties I exercised for fun, for the joy of playing sports.  In my forties I started going to a gym to try and lose a bit of weight and get some sense of physical wellness back after a very stressful year at work in '99.  And now?  Prevention.  Maintenance.

I exercise to try and stave off the time when bits of me start to fail.  My morning routine includes stretches to fend off upper back problems, exercises to strengthen my dodgy knees, and strange contortions to stop my lower spine returning to the S shape it decided to adopt at one point.  I try to improve my stamina, not with the aim of running a marathon or anything so daft, but to prevent the sense of impending heart attack I've experienced running thirty metres for a bus.  Less Olympics, more Arthritics.

Several years ago we found ourselves the less than proud owners of a Nintendo Wii console and associated Fit board.  In my quest for some flexibility (aka impeding muscle rust) this too has been resuscitated.  It is, at least, fun at times, and by contuinually thrusting at me my best previous scores it just about manages to dredge up the residue of my never-all-that-dynamic competitive spirit.  I'm being motivated by an urge to keep up with a younger me....

But the Wii offers a more direct route to seeming more youthful.  At the end of the Body test it generates a "Wii Fit Age".  This comes from the results of two random balance-type tests computed against my actual age.  Some of these tests I simply find a bit easier than others, so my score on any given day depends on what they are.  If I get the standing on one leg test I'm buggered.  But get two I'm reasonable at and this can be the result.

The rational me knows that this is entirely meaningless, the product of a random event pattern and an algorithm with zero scientific validity.  Only an idiot would pay it the slightest heed.

Then there's the other me.  The one that's narcissistic, puerile, desperately seeking validation, grasping at straws and very, very needy.  Does this alter ego respond to a misshapen computer character declaring that my body is in great shape for my age?....

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I am being manipulated/motivated (delete as you think appropriate) by bunch of pixels with Pavlovian leanings.  But if that's what it takes....