On Television!

I had a problem. It was a high quality problem, yes, but a problem nonetheless.

I was going to be on television--Albany's channel 13, interviewed by anchor Benita Zahn about my book, What a Body Knows. I had already recorded the interview at the studio, earlier in the week on Wednesday, after arriving an hour before I was due in my determination not to be late. The interview had been short and sweet, and I did want to see it.

The problem was that we don't have television reception here at Hebron Hollow. How was I going to watch the show?

While this problem was challenging enough, it was compounded by two others having to do with timing. For one, I wasn't sure which day the interview was going to air. At first we had planned it for Sunday morning, May 10th, Mother's Day. However, at the studio I watched as Benita recorded a second interview with a more-time-sensitive competitor for that same Sunday spot. So, I learned, my interview might air on Saturday, May 9th instead. Fine enough, I could be flexible, but how would I know when to tell people to watch... and record?

The second sub-problem concerned the time of day. The interview was supposed to air on the morning news, sometime between 8 and 9 AM. Whose house could I crash at that hour of the day?

On Friday night I hear the news: your interview will air on Saturday, between 8:30 and 9, probably close to 8:45. I am still chewing on my multiple-part problem.

A sudden brainstorm bursts: the health club where I have been swimming through this pregnancy. Don't they have a television in that front conference-area room?

I call. "Sure, we have a television you can watch."

Saturday morning I go to the health club early, pop in the pool for a bliss-stirring swim, and dress in time for my channel 13 debut. I go to the trainer who has kindly promised to set me up with a screen. He leads me into the weight and cardio room. I haven't been in this part of the club before. The curtains are always closed, and it isn't on the route connecting front desk, pool, and showers. He leads me to an exercise bike, which I instantly see is equipped with its own closed circuit television. There is a beautiful flat face, clear controls, and a pair of comfortable earphones. Looking around I realize that nearly every piece of cardio gear has its own television, and on the ones in use, those televisions are on.

I sit up on the seat of the bicycle--not exactly an arm chair--and we find the channel. I am good to go. I look around again. I can only see two other machine-users' screens, but they aren't turned to channel 13. Don't they know?!

I wait through a few advertisements, and then the weather. It is a very long weather report. I hardly hear any of it. Finally, the moment comes. Here I am, alone in a crowd, propped up on my exercise bike, watching... myself.

Towards the end comes the line that I know is coming. I am talking about the kind of bodily movement that can help us shift our experience of our bodies and desires. This movement, I am saying, is not where we treat our bodies like pets needing a walk--or propel our exercise bikes while watching television. At the time, I hadn't meant to say that such exercising is "bad"--it isn't!--only that it is more likely to reinforce than to evolve our felt sense of ourselves as minds over bodies.

Still, the irony persists. Here I am, on a health club exercise bike, watching myself on television talking about (not) watching television on an exercise bike!

Glad I had my swim.

Here is the clip: