I’m gonna just put it out there – I am NOT a fan of exercise. There, I said it.
Yes, I know it’s necessary.
It keeps the bad cholesterol down and the good cholesterol up. You know, so you live longer. Or something like that.
It produces those “feel good” hormones that make you look better and sleep better and feel better. Or wait, maybe that’s sex. I can’t remember.
And if you do it long enough, you can wear cuter clothes and not be so embarrassed when people see your skin.
But I still hate it. It’s not the panting or being out of breath. Although I could think of better reasons to endure that, but again, I can’t remember.
It’s not even the sweating. I’m almost 50. Sweating is a given.
But exercise, for me, is pretty much an invitation for catastrophe.
Let me ‘splain.
I am what most people would refer to as “awkward”. A clutz. A walking (barely), talking (always) danger to myself. And sometimes, others. Always have been. Always will be.
And in case you didn’t know, exercise and the ability to trip over nothing are not a good mix.
When I was in middle school, I was content to just sit on the sidelines and let the other kids play. I’m a REALLY good spectator. But apparently, you have to actually participate in order to get a good grade in P.E. class and so I was forced into games I hated. Like soccer. In fact, I once tried to kick a soccer ball (in the wrong direction, mind you). Do you know what I got for my efforts? A broken wrist. Because I fell down and tripped another girl who fell on top of me.
See? A danger to myself AND others.
In middle school, I joined the basketball team. Because, you know, that made total sense. When my team mate passed me the ball, I actually caught it. With my nose.
In high school, I played softball. And tripped running to first base.
I also ran track. Hurdles. You see where this is going, right?
But one thing I can say is that I tried. No pain, no gain. Oh, there was LOTS of pain. The only true gain was embarrassment and several trips to the ER.
Fast forward and now I’m a mom. Luckily, all the kids were athletes. Good athletes. And I took my rightful spot in the bleachers. Where. I. Belong.
But something happens after you’ve shot some kids out of your hoo-ha and spent your days cutting the crusts off, and answering questions about why dogs sniff each others’ butts, and picking up socks and sippy cups. You get a little…soft.
Now, there is only one kid left at home and he’s about to get a driver’s license (cue the tears). And since his dad left, there’s just me. And God willing, I’d like to enter this new chapter of my life a little less…soft.
So last year, I started what I call “The Road to 50 and Fabulous”. I still have until December to turn 50, but I am determined that when I do, I will like what I see in the mirror.
Since last March, I have lost close to 40 lbs. Most of that was by watching everything I put into my face hole. But I have incorporated some actual exercise in there as well.
This is me, after having been talked into a 5K last April with my bestie. See the double chin starting? See the pudge around the middle?
I haven’t joined a gym because it feels too competitive there. And there’s an audience.
I don’t do any classes because I’m cheap. And there’s an audience.
But here’s what I HAVE done:
I bought a treadmill. Lemme tell you a little something about my treadmill and me. When I first bought it (only $50 from a co-worker, holla!) I put it in the garage. One day, while my son was napping on the couch, I decided to go out and do a 20-minute walk. About 5 minutes in, I got a “low battery” message on my phone and I can’t walk without my music.
So, I left the belt of the treadmill going so I could run in and grab the charger. I went back into the garage, plugged my phone into the outlet behind the treadmill and attempted to walk around the back of a freakin’ moving treadmill and you can pretty much guess what happened next.
My shoe caught the belt and propelled me forward. First, all my weight landed on my left knee. Then, I was launched sideways and hit my left shoulder on the front of the treadmill itself, right before hitting the back of my head on the concrete garage floor. Luckily, my son heard the commotion and ran out to help me. Not gonna lie…he had to stifle the laughter because he KNOWS me. But he did help me and gave me ice for my injuries. In fact, he recently helped me bring the thing into the house and set it up in the spare bedroom – which is carpeted!
I still ride my bicycle around the neighborhood. Of course, it only takes a barking dog, a rock or SQUIRREL to distract me and down I go. But, I get up, dust myself off, swallow my pride, and continue on.
I attempt yoga via my fitness and exercise channel. Turns out that yoga pants are really comfy when doing actual yoga.
I lift weights. Although, I will tell you…when a weight falls on your pinky toe, it hurts like a mofo!!
The weight is still coming off and I have actually gotten to buy some cute clothes. The double chin has mostly disappeared and I have found my waistline. I do actually sleep better and feel better about myself.
This is me TODAY – 40 lbs. down
But I’m still not a “fan” of exercise. What I AM a fan of is balance. And me. That’s right…me. Because I’ve stuck with it and forged on, in spite of life’s best efforts to throw me off course (quite literally sometimes). And there’s nothing wrong with being my own biggest fan.
Who knows? Maybe some day, with my new body and my new outlook, I’ll get to try some of those other activities that make you pant and sweat. ;0)