I hate to exercise. I like moving around, but once the label of “exercise” has been added, I’m hating it. Period. I hate exercise and I hate when I have to do it. It is loathsome and harms my soul. It helps my body, I’m sure, but that isn’t the part that hates it so much.

I want to be thinner than I am and exercise and diet are needed, working in concert, to get rid of accumulated potato chips and chocolate. Since I love to eat, limiting the food isn’t the easiest part of the plan. It is a needed part, but surely not the only part. I have to also move about, rather than sitting here writing or reading, crocheting or playing computer games, daydreaming or thinking.

I have to trick myself into this movement stuff. I do enjoy my morning walks right up until I think of them as exercise. Then they become some sort of horrid duty to be tolerated but despised. So, I allow myself the glory of a morning walk, refreshing and awakening. It isn’t exercise, it is just taking a walk.

 

Some people playing racquetball. I really do miss this.

 

I used to play racquetball. I played a lot of racquetball and injured myself distressingly frequently. I eventually got a cataract from a hit in the eye and had a retinal bleed in the other eye later. I then finally got smart enough to wear eye guards. I broke a rib and my foot. I needed a splint on my right thumb for a couple weeks. I had uncounted bruises. I loved it all. I was not exercising. I was playing a game. And I was fairly good at it. I could play for hours without thinking I was suffering the agony of exercise. I enjoyed the time I spent and eagerly looked forward to the next time.

I love to dance. I used to dance to the music playing in the house. The kids would catch me and snicker. I was careful but would still be caught in the act and shamed or embarrassed, I would try to be more careful. But I still danced in the house. I don’t really know when or why I quit, probably after being “caught” one too many times. But dancing is fun. It burns calories just like exercise is supposed to do, but it isn’t exercise. I know this, because it is fun.

My son has been a gym rat since his sophomore year in high school. He has lived and breathed fitness regimens for more than half his life. He has been involved in athletics as well, but much of the time his hobby has been working out at the gym. I suppose if anything can be considered exercise, it would be working out at the gym. But for him, somehow, this is fun.

He not only works out at a gym now, he is co-owner of a gym. CrossFit Hilton Head isn’t your typical gym and the workouts are quite different than most workouts. So, not only is he having fun while exercising, he is working while exercising. This is the American Dream come true.

My sister talked me into a couple extraneous exercise things. I have a Wii and bought the Wii Fit program and board. I used it for a while, but don’t use it anymore. However, I still possess it. Not sure what will happen during our rainy season here, so I may be forced to use it again in the future.

I also got an elliptical machine the same time my sister did. My sister still has hers. I offloaded mine much to my relief and delight. I’m so glad it is out of my house, no longer mocking me regarding my emotional disaffection after spending so much money. I am so cheap, I was sure I would continue to use it just to make sure I got my money’s worth. I simply wasn’t able to sustain the punishment factor my mind was dealing out to me. I gave it up and am delighted in the choice.

My sister used her elliptical, then she stopped using it, then she started using it again. She just decided that the elliptical wasn’t enough. It was a great cardio workout, but wasn’t doing anything to help with muscle establishment or maintenance. So she just purchased a Total Gym, a huge contraption that will fold up to the size of an ironing board. However, unfolded it is the size of a 47 car train. She is delighted with her new purchase and is committed to this concept of exercise.

This is just one more major point of difference between us. She seems to be enjoying herself with this stuff. If I didn’t know better, I would think that she and not me was Craig’s mother. However, I know he belongs to me and it must be some recessive gene he got, something displayed in his aunt’s behavior.

I’m glad my family members can enjoy exercising. Me? I may put on some music and get up and dance.

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