I want to speak, briefly, on the terror that is exercise.
Now, I’m an active person. I walk places. When I’m in a hurry, I walk fast. I enjoy lifting the occasional weight. Mind you, if I flex a few times while carrying groceries, I think that counts.
I’ve gone through bouts of intense workout. Like, Body for Life. Which I enjoyed. I was also in grad school at the time, and was already living a fairly regimented lifestyle, so adding one more thing to the mix wasn’t a big deal. But something’s changed. This new thing, this…P90X…it sounds like the model number of a Terminator. P90X. GET RIPPED.
I’ve just signed up for a free class tonight, at a new gym next to my friends’ coffeeshop. The class is titled “Bumper Breaks Tailgate.” It focuses on your butt and legs. I’ll admit that I’m a little scared. It’s a long time since I’ve been in a gym. Or taken an exercise class. Or broken my bumper or tailgate. But I like a challenge. I like a little pain. I actually enjoy sweating. I’m a sweat-er. I think that’s healthy. There are some folks who never sweat, and I admit I’m suspicious. What – no pores? Doesn’t add up.
Years ago, there was a period of about five minutes when I had the faintly discernible outlines of washboard abs. I remember seeing them in the mirror and gasping. But, like all mythical creatures, they bounded into the forest, never to be seen again. Which is fine. I don’t aspire to washboard abs. I do my laundry in the handy machine technology has provided.
But C and I have been talking, ad nauseam, about Getting Into Shape. Sometimes, we feel like we’ve actually worked out, just because we talked about it with enough specificity. C is currently up in the hinterlands of Utah getting all Sundance-y, so I’m left to my own devices to stave off boredom. Which, for better or worse, has resulted in me signing up for this class.
For some reason, I feel like I’m about to participate in some sort of shuttle launch.
Q: What do you do to avoid exercise? Or, if you’re one of those really healthy people, do I know you?