There. I said it. I also really like Jif peanut butter (even though I know it's full of trans fats and sugar, and I eat way more of it than is redeemable by the wispy thin guise of virtuosity provided by its merits of protein and good fats) and (extra) bacon on my (double decker) cheeseburger. Ahem. But that's another blog entry.
What I'm saying is, most days I'd rather scrub the toilet, kill the spider myself, eat a giant bowl of sweet potatoes (blechk!), or wear a pair of too-tight underwear all day (well... maybe...) than work out. But this week I have resolved to walk around the neighborhood for an extended period of time every day. And so far it's going well!
Now I understand many of you fitness-ites out there are scoffing at me, sitting cozy in front of your glowing monitors, the hair near the nape of your neck still slightly curled from sweat after your jog this afternoon... "Walking around the neighborhood? *snort* Sounds rough." But may I remind you that yours truly was raised with the notion that Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes was exercise (ah, the glories of homeschool P.E.), and in order to motivate me to do chin-ups in fifth grade for the President's Physical Fitness test (ie: the President's Embarrass the Nerds/ Chubby Kids Test), my dear, sweet mother said, "Just pretend there's a brownie on top of the bar!" I think it's fair to say fitness is not my forte.
Even in the past four years as I've gone through an incredible weight loss journey (I've lost 115 pounds since high school), I think I've maybe worked out a combined 30 days. Total. "But why?" you ask, "Pick something you like! Have fun! Try a sport-- hiking's great!" I honestly don't know why nearly everything within me loathes the idea of strenuous physical activity. Maybe it's the fact that I despite my best intentions, I just have little to no athletic ability (my movements during capoeira class could only be described as "sort of flailing windmill-like").
I mean, exercise seems fun, I see other people do it and enjoy it; I've heard of runner's high (a completely fallacious rumor started by some lonely marathoner, I suspect), even people becoming addicted to exercise! I'm happy for you all. Really I am. And so, despite the fact that my nose starts to run two blocks away from my house, and I sweat more than I'm comfortable with (my threshold is, admittedly, quite low), and, let's be honest, sneakers just don't look good on me, I'm going to be walking every day this week.
Why? Well, it's an experiment. I just want to see what happens to my body and emotions when my mind and spirit are in control. There are so many times in life where we give in to what we want, what we like, and what seems to bring us happiness (peanut butter and cheeseburgers, perhaps?). And sometimes that's okay. But other times something clicks and you realize it's time for an override-- time to show everybody who's boss. This week I'm going to be showing my body who's boss. Because it hurts. And hopefully those slightly soft muscles on my calves are going to listen.