Monday, January 23, 2012
Most people who know me for more than ten minutes are aware that I prefer not to workout; that word alone has always made me shudder. My friend found a magnet for me that explains it all: "Whenever I say the word 'exercise' I wash my mouth out with chocolate." Of course I realize there is merit to exercise (hello, Hershey!) but I am so busy, and I can't find an activity that I enjoy, plus I've been lucky enough to stay reasonably healthy without it for decades. Okay, really I'm disgustingly lazy.
But recently something came over me. Maybe it was the whirlwind series of doctor appointments, trying to figure out the source of my increasing fatigue, wherein I had to repeatedly check the "Sedentary" box on health history forms. That is simply embarrassing. So I decided to join my man at the gym - this time not just so I could buy some cute new yoga clothes but also so I could get my heart pumping, while having 45 minutes of uninterrupted reading time and John Mayer playlist. Multiple win.
And strangely, I kind of like it. My man & I actually talk to and from the gym, and sometimes we compete for distance on the elliptical machine. I don't lift weights with him (how could I read like that?) and I cannot bring myself to coordinate visits with actual fitness classes, but I still think good things might be happening. At the very least, I occasionally break a bead of sweat trying to average 3 minute miles on the stationary bike (see photo!); it depends on how involving that night's chapter is, or if I get sucked into Facebooking instead of reading or riding.
Just don't say I'm exercising, please. You'll owe me some chocolate.