Today I Buy a Sledgehammer & Change My Life

I have been thinking, lately, that I might like to be healthy. I have never been healthy: I've always been thin and pastey and wheezy when jogging. I don't like vegetables or fish or vitamins. I have never been a fan of physical fitness. I don't like running, I don't like lifting, I don't like stretching, I don't like stairs, I don't like boxing, I don't like sitting- pushing- or pulling-up.

The only physical activity I can remember enjoying is digging holes. Some of my earliest memories are of digging holes. There was the time in pre-school when I was digging a hole underneath of a picnic table and saw a thick, long, dark, round, pipe-like thing that I was convinced was a snake. It was not a snake, just the buried bent-pipe leg of the picnic table I was digging under.

Other notable holes I've dug:

- Long, shallow, trench-like hole dug in secret in my backyard for use while playing Hide-and-Seek-in-the-Dark.
- Deep, round, cauldron-like hole dug into the beach at Cunningham Falls lake in attempt to dig world's deepest hole. Abandoned due to seepage.
- Narrow, deep hole dug and then covered with sticks, pine needles in attempt to capture and tame a squirrel and/or rabbit.

I think holes and the digging of holes appeal to me for many reasons. First, until I start digging, a particular hole has never existed before anywhere in the world. Second, especially for a child, there's not many things in the world you can claim to own. A hole, though, that you've dug, is permanent(ish) and personal. Holes also hold infinite promise -- you never know what you could find: a snake, maybe, or an arrowhead, or a dinosaur, or a bag of money, or maybe you'll just keep digging the hole and reach the other side of the world, or an underground cave or a natural spring. Most importantly: most holes, or at least the best holes, require a shovel.

Shovels are the perfect tool for a kid. The edges aren't particularly sharp, it's hard to lose control of, you can walk around using it as a staff like a wizard or ninja turtle or use it as a cane like the old man in Jurassic Park or as an axe for a fake beheading. Shovels are easy to understand; you'll never find yourself wondering about a shovel like you would ponder a miter box or worry about the evil uses for the claw-end of a hammer. Shovels make great sounds when they SSHTHUNCK into soil and can send a shiver up your spine when they scrape against a rock. Depending on your height, a shovel can also be much taller than its user, making it seem like you're defying the laws of physics by being able to deftly maneuver such an overwhelming object.

Today in New York City, where concrete covers almost every surface, it would be almost impossible for me to take up shoveling as a workout. I guess I could sneak into a city park in the middle of night and dig for hours. Then when dawn appears, fresh and rosy-fingered, I'd start to furiously fill the hole back in and replace a set-aside divot of sod to keep anyone from finding out. Impractical at best.

Recently I discovered ShovelGlove.com, a website that, I think, may change my entire life. Shovelgloving is the only exercise I've ever seen that actually looks like it might be enjoyable.

A rainy day inspired Reinhard Engels to invent ShovelGlove: a sledgehammer wrapped in a sweater. With motions like "chopping wood" and "churning butter" and, my favorite, "shoveling," Reinhard's goal is to recreate the motions and muscle-building activities that humans have engaged in for thousands of years. Reinhard uses a sledgehammer instead of a shovel for the extra weight, and wraps it in a sweater so it doesn't scratch his floor or scare his cats.

Imagining myself hewing logs for a frontier cabin sounds much better than lying face-up on a sweaty plank pushing weights up and down. And digging an imaginary hole might be almost as fun as digging a real one.