Exercise has always been my archnemesis. Working out has a way of making me feel better and worse about myself simultaneously. We all know the drill….calories in balanced with calories out. I have tried a variety of cardiovascular pursuits and have come to one conclusion….I need to eat less.
First there was yoga. Stretch your body in an assortment of poses – most resembling an animal…or a piece of furniture. This would be where the problem arose. In a room of tables, I was the only ottoman. While the wispy women in the front were doing tree…I was doing overgrown shrub. Ignorance to how I looked was impossible. Mirrors were everywhere. It confirmed in my mind that an apple can never be a tree.
Next came kick-boxing…taught by Hitler’s descendant. I’ve been surrounded by males my whole life (3 brothers and 3 sons) so it seemed to fit my somewhat aggressive nature. I jumped, kicked and got my heart rate to a level that seemed incompatible with life. After five minutes, I had three choices…a) Throw up on the floor b) pass out or c) crawl towards the door and find a cylinder of oxygen. Option three seemed the least disruptive to the class.
Swimming taught me that fat does float. If my cruise ship goes down…I will survive…unless everyone discovers my secret and uses me for a life boat. Unfortunately, I was not raised around pools so my swimming does resemble a drowning victim. My fear of water did seem to impede the circulatory benefits.
Exercise Boot Camp taught me that I do work harder with someone yelling at me. I was finally able to run ½ mile without stopping….other than to assure people that I didn’t need their inhaler. Apparently I sound quite asthmatic while running. I gave it up…not for myself….but for those running behind me with a nebulizer.
My latest exercise attempt is at home…on my treadmill. No mirrors. No one to compare myself to. Just me. This would be the issue. “Me” is not very good at motivating “me” to work out. I used the treadmill religiously for about…two weeks. I am now trying to convince my husband that it is a piece of modern art inspired by our health consumed society. He’s not buying it.
So what’s next? I’m determined to find the activity for me. I’m open to ideas. How about Zumba? With enough room, a middle aged Caucasian woman with no rhythm can dance…right? I have to keep searching. In a world of calories in equaling calories out, I enjoy a glass of wine more than I enjoy the finer things of life….like dignity.