24 is a TV series that stars Kiefer Sutherland as a counter terrorist agent. Each episode depicts twenty-four hours in his character’s life. I believe it ended a couple of years ago, though I think I read where it is going to be resurrected.
We have a 24 of our own going on here in our house. Twenty-four minutes. I have pleaded and cajoled for years to get my husband into some sort of exercise routine, all to no avail. For awhile, a couple of years ago, he made an effort to go to a gym around the corner from his office before he came home. He was going three times a week, then two, then one, then none. He finally cancelled his gym membership and I added him onto my YMCA one when he pledged to stop at the Y on his way home from work a few times a week. Didn’t happen. He went on a few Saturdays, but that stopped as well.
Then came the tears. Mine, not his. I told my sweet hubby I didn’t want to be a young widow. Okay, there is no danger of the young part anymore. But I tried one more serious talk about my desire…no, my overwhelming need…to have him get into some sort of exercise routine. A week later he announced that he was going to start getting up at 5:45 every weekday morning and go for a jog/walk before he went to work. I told him I was coming with him. Today is nine days in a row ( not counting the weekends), and we’re still going strong.
Our morning jog-walks only take twenty-four minutes to get us through our mapped out circuit, but I am a much happier wife now. Which means hubby is a much happier hubby.