I don’t normally write about exercising, and I’m sure you wouldn’t have a hard time guessing the perfectly good reason for the lack: I don’t normally exercise. Or, at least, I haven’t since I started this blog. You might be surprised to learn that about two weeks before I put the first iteration of the blog together, I was running almost two miles on a regular basis, loving it, and contemplating starting a blog about it.
I used to think that my problem with exercise was that I just didn’t like it, or possibly that I had some rare and undiagnosable disease that made exercise especially unpleasant. When I was in high school, for example, I tried to get into running. After discovering that I couldn’t make it very far without getting excruciatingly winded and cramping up horribly, I decided that I just wasn’t destined to be a runner.
I have always been in love with the idea of running–of being one of those courageous people who wills her body to fitness with nothing but a pair of sneakers and the open road. Last summer, when I found myself again hating the gym and therefore ignoring it, I decided to attempt running again, this time armed with knowledge of the Cool Runnings’ Couch-to-5K plan.
It’s a smart plan, which acknowledges the fact that overdoing the workout when you’re severely out of shape is likely to induce injury alongside the paranoia about House-worthy diseases. The premise is simple: alternate running and walking to slowly build up your endurance over time. With my youngest sister as my motivating running partner and a manageable plan, I happily worked my way up to an average of two miles in about twenty minutes, which is at least less pathetic than abject failure.
Then we moved to Boston. I can whine about the weather and city running and uncertainty of safety all I want. I can tell you I walked two miles along my regular route every day. This would all be true, but none of it changes the bare bones of the thing: last week I went running for the first time since we left Maine. We have a gym, you see, and I more or less have the time.
Today was meant to be a running day under my current plan of three days of running, two of light yoga, and as I was sitting on my couch knitting and watching an understandably obscure Heath Ledger show instead, I had a revelation. It’s not that I dislike exercising, per se. I just like it less than so many other things that I can never find enough time to do.
As it turns out, I’m a rather lazy hedonist at heart.