About two years ago, around the time I met Big Ben, I was exercising very regularly, eating right, dropping weight and feeling pretty on top of the world. Then I met Big Ben and fell in love and with him I've revisited my love of food. I thought I could just enjoy it and relax for a little while, but then one evening this summer, sitting on my front porch I realized I was too sluggish and lazy to get up and play with the kids anymore. That to me is rock bottom! I put on my walkin' shoes and suppressed my urge for Dr. Pepper and away I went. After a couple weeks, I'm feeling much better again. Better, except for the stupid hill. "The stupid hill" is a mile long, steep incline between the two buildings at work. Two years ago when I was feeling good, I was walking it, so logic lead me to believe the best thing to do would be to walk it again. Every day at lunch, I change my clothes and get out there in the heat of the sun. And let me tell you, I sweat! I sweat and I ache. Sometimes, I feel like there are rocks in my calves because my muscles are so angry with me. And then when I get home at night, I fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow. Yes, there is a sense of accomplishment and greater well being, but why in heaven's name must it come with so much sweat and discomfort. I envy people who love to exercise, I wish I did. I love how it makes me feel, but doing it is another story.
I'm telling you, some brilliant genius invented food, while some sick jerk invented exercise!
Just thought I'd share a little of my pain today. I miss my ice cream and Dr. Pepper!
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Hmmmm, I'm wondering if there is an "I hate to exercise" genetic component. Perhaps I inherited it from my mother and have passed it to my daughter.......?
And what about those poor souls who are cursed with the "sure I just love to beat myself silly and sweat like a pig" cells? I'd feel sorry for them, but heck, at least they're skinny!
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