I wrote yesterday about the joys of exercise as it pertains to a stay-at-home father's life. I forgot to add a warning. Beware of becoming too enamored of your work-out routine (as can be inferred from yesterday's posting, 'enamored' is too weak a word to describe my devotion to my current exercise DVD). Every zealot has to face the specter of ridicule and I am no different. My wife, who's motto is everything in moderation, thinks I am crazy. She will often ask me if I am going to work out in the same tone that one might ask, "are you going to go sniff glue?" To make matters worse, she has inhumanly strong abdominal muscles (after two children) and soundly defeated me in a 'who's got the stronger abdominal muscles' contest. Unfair.
On the plus side, my boys, who will watch me exercise (when I do so at a respectable hour) and offer critiques of my form, just said, "dad, you're getting really good at this!"
Must one first taste acrid ridicule before sweet success?