Running Without A Wild Animal In Pursuit

I've never been much for exercise. Even as a kid, I'd much rather draw or read a book than play softball. I wasn't on a single team aside from P.E. where I usually got picked close to last (aside from basketball where my height was deemed an advantage.) I did jump rope and ride my bike around, but sports were just not my deal.

My mother attempted to route me though the traditional ballet, tap and gymnastics classes at the YMCA, but I don't recall making it for more than a few weeks at a time. After a particularly nasty growing spurt, my doctor actually took me out of ballet for good. (Just in time, too, because I'm was far too endowed far too early for all that jumping around.)

I just wasn't meant for physical activity. For one thing, I was never particularly coordinated. I was tall and lanky with far too much arm and leg. Dribbling a basketball or moving a soccer ball down the field with my big feet was just a bad idea. I was also not very strong. I could never do handstands or cartwheels like the other kids. I'd fall off the monkey bars. And then, of course, I was also a big chicken. Even at seven, I had a pretty hard and fast rule about my rear end not going over my head. It was just asking for trouble.

And so, I developed quite quickly into an "indoor cat." Like my cats at home, the outdoors is nice and interesting, but I'd rather look at it from the safety of the windowsill. I excelled at academics and left the physical stuff behind me. Speaking of "behind," you'll see where this became a problem. I've never been particularly thin. Weight is always a battle and given that I didn't care for physical endeavors, exercise was even more of a challenge for me. I wasn't the kind that would go hiking or rollerblading for fun. Exercise was a chore, a box to check off.

For some reason, I got fired up this year about exercise. Better late than never, I suppose. I joined a local gym and set myself the ambitious goal of going 4 days a week (M-Th). I leave straight from work dressed in my gym clothes, work out, then go home. I know better than to go home and think I'll venture out again for anything as mundane as exercise.

I started February 2nd and I'm pleased to report I haven't missed a single day - 36 straight workouts. I think I've actually gone to the gym more in the last two months than I have in my whole entire life combined. I've been using the ellipticals, walking and running (yes, running) on the treadmill, taking the occasional aerobics class, and doing a good bit of weight training. I have lost some weight, but mostly inches in addition to gaining a few muscles I've never seen before. Hopefully I'll look fab when Nationals rolls around this summer.

After my first month without missing a day, I rewarded myself with a very nice pair of running shoes. This month, I'm thinking perhaps a massage is in order. Maybe a pedicure. The scariest part of this whole thing - I'm actually liking it! If only I could manage to be as consistent with my writing... Why is it I can only be 'on the ball' with one part of my life at a time?

Do you have a love/hate relationship with exercise? Just a hate/hate one? Or are you one of those people who just love it? What's your favorite type of exercise? Honestly, I'm still waiting on that feel good rush that people claims makes them addicted to exercise. I'm nowhere near addicted yet. Do you have any suggestions for a reward?

SP

PS. The winner from last week's blog post is Caroline. She's picked up two autographed Jacquie D'Alessandro books. Please email me at smartypants@writingplayground.com to claim your prize. After seven days, unclaimed prizes will be covered in gravy and fed to my dogs. Or not.