It seems that there is absolutely no way that you can get away with being over forty, overweight and NOT have to do some exercise to shift it … damn it!
With that being the case it seems the next step on the long and winding road to a slightly more improved version of me is exercise. I have no objections to exercising, there are lots of exercises I actually enjoy doing, what I hate is the having to do it. And not only having to do it but doing it at a pace that makes it not fun anymore.
I enjoy a nice walk, getting out in the fresh air and being at one with nature, the sights, the sounds, the smells, but apparently that’s just not real exercise. Now set that scene to a soundtrack of my breath wheezing through my lungs and rasping out of my gaping mouth. The sweat dripping down my face and into my eyes as I stumble blindly through the woods, trying to look like a seasoned jogger rather than someone desperately fleeing a serial killer. And suddenly it’s just not fun anymore!
Cycling used to be about peddling along by the river, watching the people and the boats and stopping for some lunch. Now it’s about power cycling and tackling long, torturous hills and feeling the burn in my legs, my ribs and my chest. Now rather than finishing a ride feeling relaxed and content, I finish needing an oxygen mask and a cardiac team on standby.
Why can’t getting fit just be about moving your body for pleasure—whatever that might be? Why must we lose the joy for it to be exercise?
Last year I spent three weeks in Cyrpus staying at my boyfriend’s parent’s house on holiday. I was overjoyed when I saw their gorgeous swimming pool and I made full use of it, swimming lap after lap, hour after hour. I didn’t do this because it was good exercise but because I love the water and I cannot get enough of swimming. I felt fitter, leaner and healthier by the end of that holiday and it was with a sense of excitement (rather than the usual dread) that I stepped on the scales … only to realize that I had put on three pounds!
Okay I admit that I wasn’t exactly counting the calories or eating slowly and consciously while I was there but even so … three bloody pounds after all that swimming!
So it seems to me that I have to find a way to start enjoying all these new strenuous versions of my old favorites. maybe one day I will be hit by that ‘joggers high’ I have been hearing so much about. Or maybe the power cycling will begin to feel as easy and enjoyable as the pootling along the river felt … and maybe one day ponies will talk and come in a variety of pretty colors … just saying.