Fitness is a dirty word. It comes from the word “fit,” which nothing does anymore, and the suffix “ness,” which is a Scottish monster that’s the same size as my rear end.
I’m serious about fitness. But like any serious relationship, fitness and I have our ups and downs. At first, it’s all new and wonderful, and I finish my workouts feeling that glorious afterglow.
But that soon wears off, boredom creeps in, and I find myself avoiding my treadmill’s eyes as I hurry out the door to meet doughnut, my one true love, at the café down the street.
I like the feeling I get when I work out. It’s the actual working out part I hate. For one thing, it’s never quite the right time to walk or run outside. Too hot in summer, too icy in winter, muddy in spring. Can’t go out when it rains, I’m not a morning person and it’s getting dark by the time I get home from work.
But the three remaining days in late September when it’s cool and sunny and not humid don’t quite give me the aerobic workout I need.
I tried seeing a personal trainer for awhile and bought hand weights and one of those balance balls. That thing sits in my living room, mocking me with its giant blueness like the Eye of the Workout God. You can’t store that thing anywhere. It’s messing up my feng shui, I tell you. Plus I can’t see the TV while lying on the couch.
My trainer told me to pick an aerobic exercise I enjoy, because then I’m more likely to stay with it.I believe I snorted right to his face.
Let’s go over the “choices.”
Jogging – don’t think so. I’ve seen those runners stumble down the paths at the park like extras from “Night of the Living Dead.” Seriously, you are in desperate need of more brains if you torture yourself like that.
I used to love biking, but I’m afraid of getting stuck on the side of the road with a flat. Does AAA do bikes? I’ll have to look into that.
I occasionally walk, but was reading recently that the new thing is to wear a pedometer to measure how many steps you take in a day. The article said 10,000 steps a day is enough to keep you fit. Sounds like the death march to hell. You’d think I’d already be in shape, considering how much backtracking I do all day to pick up things I’ve forgotten.
I guess I could always sign up at the gym again. There’s nothing I love more than working out alongside college girls wearing those little baby doll T-shirts.Them, not me. It makes me feel like Barbie’s dumpier cousin Jane. Comes with double chin and “fat” jeans. Exercise bike/clothes rack sold separately.
I’m thinking at this stage of the game, being perfectly fit might be an unachievable goal. I’d settle for being able to fit my butt in an airplane seat.