Getting In Political Shape / CLN Aug. Column

Recently I joined the Wells Street Athletic Club because I couldn’t rationalize the fact my suits weren’t fitting any more by saying the dry cleaner was shrinking my pants. For the first 21 years of my life, the majority of my time and effort was focused on training to be in basketball shape. After a collegiate basketball career, I immediately stepped into a competitive rugby lifestyle that became the next step in a rigorous dedication to sport.
That was before putting on sympathy weight for my wife during her back to back pregnancies, and then finding out that sour cream was a perfect addition to late night burritos and that finishing everything on your plate was bad parental guidance… especially after six trips to the buffet line. I am currently tipping the scale in a commiseration that would equal a pregnancy for my wife in which she’d be carrying triplets in the fourth trimester.
There are many reasons I love the Wells Street Athletic Club. One particular amenity I’m drawn too is the stationary bike right in front of a pillar in the middle of the exercise floor. It’s surrounded by a row of treadmills, step machines and other bikes. This one is perfect, however, because the pillar blocks my views of the mirrors that showcase the giant gelatinous spare tire surrounding my middle these days. Since I can’t get the dry cleaner to shrink that, I am feverishly peddling away at a stationary bike in front of that pillar. It’s like forcing yourself to race toward a wall without crashing.
The dry cleaner wasn’t the only professional to play a role in my attempt at an athletic resurgence. During an annual physical, my doctor mentioned my weight gain and asked if my life insurance policy was up to date. If that’s not a negative health indicator and motivation for change, chest pains and a left-arm tingling sensation are likely the next likely flags.
Making an effort to lose some poundage and get some stamina back into life is important for so many obvious reasons and some not so obvious when it comes to politics.
There’s a simple fact in politics… you have to be in shape and ready for assaults from any direction and challenges of all kinds. Look at Democratic Presidential Candidate Barack Obama, as young, attractive and in-shape a nominee as this country has seen since the vigorous JFK. His routine hoop playing keeps his cardio fitness intact while enduring one of the most grueling campaign schedules imaginable. In order for Obama to achieve success he’s got to bob-and-weave and keep running up a mountain of challenges that includes one of his supporters, an icon of the Civil Rights movement, threatening to cut off his privates.
With friends like that, you’ve got to keep your body tight and agile and, more importantly, your legs crossed.
Physical shape, however, is only part of the game in politics. You’ve got to keep your mental game sharp as well and be ready for all kinds of attempts of character castration. It really is silly that the political arena in the United States pits candidates against one another, and they are rated on how much slander, mud slinging and viciousness they can muster.
Politics is often called a blood sport and a contact game, especially in Chicago. Trust me; the reddest color in the world is your own blood on green grass or the ground in front of you. I’ve seen it on the rugby field and on the basketball court. The kind of blood and contact in the political game is psychological. In politics you’re supposed to be able to take the verbal and written hits with a lack of emotion and then take appropriate recourse. On the other hand, rather than politics as usual I prefer when someone responds with humor.
One of my political influences and the great Senator, George Mitchell (D – Irish-American) was asked a ridiculous question to catch him off guard during a press conference about the Good Friday Peace Accord he helped broker in Northern Ireland in 1998. At the time, one-time law partner Republican Bob Dole was a pitch man for Viagra and the reporter asked Mitchell if he needed any help from the little blue pill. Sitting to the side of the stage was Mitchell’s wife, almost 30 years his younger with their newborn child.
''The answer is no,'' Mr. Mitchell replied with a broad smile, ''and I've got a 6-month-old son to prove that I don't need it!'' Laughter followed fact.
Mitchell showed how to banter with the media and being in shape to banter is a requirement to run our country. Fold on video these days and you’re, well, George W. Bush.
Senator Obama can certainly banter. When asked to respond to rival Senator John McCain’s digs regarding his recent trip overseas, a quick witted answer followed.
“I was puzzled by this notion that somehow what we were doing was in any way different from what Senator McCain or a lot of presidential candidates have done in the past. (Except) I admit we did it really well,” Obama mused to a round of chuckles and cheers, “but that shouldn't be a strike against me.”
So the lessons here are to get back into an exercise routine, be healthy and stay away from Jesse Jackson when he’s holding scissors.
By the way, the lotion in the men’s locker room at the Wells Street Athletic Club smells just like Bailey’s Irish Cream. Now that’s a great health club amenity.