I am not someone who exercises. It’s not even that i don’t exercise often, i really don’t do much more than taking stairs instead of an elevator (which is not a choice based on health reasons, more that i don’t want to be stuck in a confined space with people who may or may not insist on standing right next to me… i have some space issues), choosing to walk rather than drive as often as possible (this comes from my knowledge of how poor my parking skills can be mixed with some left-over road rage issues from living in Seattle), and wearing heels (everyone knows that’s basically a calf work out, right? isn’t it??).
However, i will soon be traveling with my younger sister, who is not only a huge fan of not being a fatty, but she is the type who hikes by jogging straight up the side of a mountain with a ridiculously heavy bag strapped to her back. I know this first hand, because she has run laps around me on hikes before, carrying all of our food and water on her back while i drag myself behind her, out of breath and completely unburdened. What’s more, now i will be carrying nearly all my belongings (not the books, they will live in a garage, patiently awaiting my return) on my back for this trip.
I have been meaning to start this exercise thing for weeks now… even changing into my exercise clothes twice. Yep. It hasn’t happened. But today… today was different. I got home, put on the clothes, the shoes, grabbed my ancient iPod, and just turned and walked out the door. I think this is the only way to get myself to do these things: a bit of distraction, refusal to listen to the little voice in my head that says this is such a bad idea, let’s watch an episode of Vampire Diaries instead, and the element of surprise.
Because that’s what i was when i walked out the door, surprised.
Here i was, standing in front of my house, headphones on, jogging down the grass. I didn’t even know where i was going. But you know what, the first 10 minutes wasn’t that bad! I even learned that i have a neighbor who literally has both a bathtub and sink in his/her front yard.
And I was able to run/jog (this is about as fast as I can move myself, somewhere between a jog and run) a half-mile all the way to the local park. I stopped to do my little stretches, now that my muscles had been warmed. This may have been a mistake? When i started to run again, it was much harder… and i was even run/jogging on grass… this was a bad sign.
I pressed on. I got maybe another hundred feet (please note that i have no idea about how far things are. The details provided here are provided by google maps and my imagination) and that was it. Body said oh, my. Now that’s quite enough dear. At this point, though i was willing to tell myself that most likely only been 10 minutes, and if it has been 20, wow aren’t we in better shape than we thought? Either way, i was going to need to continue.
A few hundred more feet, i’m doing that strange half walk a few steps, half run/jog a couple, stubble stumble, walk, run… thing. I’m also having a conversation with myself that is saying something along the lines of why are you doing this to me? we’re making it to the beach, damn it. why? why would you make me do this? you don’t even like this! we’ll just run to the beach. no, really that’s quite enough. we live in California, and will make it to the fucking beach. i’d like to see you try to make me do something i don’t want to. then fucking watch this bitch!
I’m sure you can guess how well this worked out for me. The awkward forced run-walk-jog movement thing finally won out (damn you Body!) and i tripped myself. Self sabotage had me sprawled out in a little patch of some strange waxy plant thing, right at the corner of a very busy intersection. Someone honked.
I jumped up like it’s no big deal guys, really. Nothing to see here. And decided to just walk a bit until i could get back into control of Body. I reasoned that yes, we would make it to the beach, but we probably would not do that run/jogging. So we walk/jogged. That seemed more reasonable. Body was more willing to work with that pace.
And then we got passed by a chubby grandma. I also have no real judge of age, so this woman was somewhere near my grandmother’s age (let’s say 80-ish), full-figured, and panting as though her lungs were going to give out at any moment. And she passed me!! Like i was standing still. Really?!?
I did what any sane person would do at that moment. I tried to match my pace to the chubby old woman in front of me. What else could i do? I ignored the sputtering, tired steps and the angry Body’s internal yelling. I was going to keep up with that old woman if it killed me.
And I did, for about 3 minutes, or the length of one of my songs. I don’t even remember which one, because i was so intent on keeping up with that woman. I couldn’t hear it. And I walked my lazy ass the rest of the way to the beach. She lapped me on her way back.
Total travel distance at this point: 1 mile. I needed a break, so I sat on a bench and watched the sunset.
I sat there for 2 songs, Iron & Wine Naked as We Came, and Portishead Wandering Star. Good job old-school iPod shuffle! I jog/walked back with spurts of run/walking. The thing was, i had won. The Body had made it to the beach and not died. This gave me no pleasure, however.
When i got back to the house, what had felt like a 3 hour run/jog had only taken me 45 minutes. That is including the incredibly long, hot shower i took to force feeling back into my fingers. It’s chilly here, and i was not dressed for it: my fingers were purple and numb, my cheeks stiff, and my muscles cramped (although that could have been run/jog related).
But i made it. And guess what, i get to do it again tomorrow… fuck.
Total travel distance today: 1.9 miles. (But for Body’s sake let’s call it 3. Now don’t you feel better, Body?)
H
G
R:
Rule #2: Don't Die. 