Always save something to throw back in

She told me one time she would always have to leave a little water in the bottom of the bucket to throw back. If she didn't, the well would remain dry. If she returned that little bit of water, more would begin to flow.

To me, that's a good analogy for exercise. If I get up and do it, I feel like doing more. It's like a lesson in physics. A body in motion tends to stay in motion. Likewise, a body at rest tends to stay at rest.

In an effort to increase my own participation in my life, I added a couple of new routines to my agenda this week.

First of all, I used the Fit Trail at the Shelbyville Recreation Center. I've seen Fit Trails before, but I've always just kept going. You've probably noticed them, too, and if you're like me, you thought for a brief moment that maybe, one day …

I decided to try it Sunday in the heat of the day, and I got quite a workout. It's like Commando Walking.

There are a series of signs along the trail, each of which is posted beside a different "obstacle." Each obstacle has a designated torture assigned to it, and the instruction sheets for these instruments of torture are printed upon the aforementioned signs.

You get the idea - you walk along the trail until you get to the next sign, which might say something like, "Hang from these bars until shoulders are dislocated." When you are done torturing yourself at that station (and each sign tells you how many times to torture yourself), then it's time to head off to the next station. The sign also tells you whether to walk, jog or (gasp!) run to the next sign, depending upon what level of torture you are subjecting yourself to.

I make it sound pretty bad, but it was actually worse than that. Ha, ha, just kidding. It was fun, though somewhat painful. And you know what they say: No pain, no gain. I wasn't able to complete all the stations, but I gave it a good effort and my plan is to do it once per week.

After that, I decided I was ready for anything. Even Zumba, which some of my friends (all women, if you can imagine) had been pressuring me to try. So I steeled myself for embarrassment, prepared myself for an oxygen overdose, paid my three dollars, and entered the mirrored exercise room.

I felt like a fat, straight Richard Simmons at a Latin festival.

The instructor was great, the music was lively, and I made it the entire hour without quitting or falling down. Or getting in step with the rest of the group.

It was really fun, and my goal is to do it once per week. Maybe one day, through sweat and determination, I'll somehow learn the moves.

All in all, I had a good week in exercise. But surprise, surprise: I underachieved on the diet.

Saturday was my birthday … chocolate tastes great … I love guacamole - blah, blah, blah - my weight is the same as it was last week.

My tonnage is like a yo-yo, leaving me to believe there's more science behind this weight-loss thing than I care to know.

On Wednesday, the morning after Zumba, I weighed 231 pounds, a loss of three pounds since last week. This Thursday, I started off at 235, but dropped to 232 in the afternoon. Then back up to 234 in the evening. It's like my weight changes as the sun and moon change positions in the sky. Maybe it's all related to gravitational pull.

Two weeks ago, I wrote that I was going to get a tape measure. I haven't yet, but I'll try to get one today, so I can keep track of inches. I understand that's important when charting progress.

Either way, I'll make sure to keep a little water saved back to get me going tomorrow.

-- John Philleo is editor of the Times-Gazette. He can be reached at (931) 684-1200, ext. 218, or by e-mail at editor@t-g.com. This column is scheduled to print every Friday.