July 09, 2008

Sloth again

After a June of gluttony and dissipation, I have decided to try to get healthier. Gotta tellya: I f--ing HATE to exercise.

When I had a gym membership it was worse. I thought that when I was paying for it, my inherent cheapness would actually encourage me to go to the gym. Instead I just felt stupid about not going. And I don't generally seek out the company of sweaty people; nor do I enjoy long political discussions in the locker room with conservative old guys who seem to delight in the open air.

I don't mind exercise, exactly, but I hate "exercising." Look, I don't mind physical labor. I actually like it. Especially when there's a point to it. I also love to walk, if I'm walking to somewhere or away from somewhere. But walking in a circle or worse, back and forth in a line, I hate, unless there's going to be cake somewhere along the trip.

If exercise were purely about vanity, I wouldn't even think twice about it ... my appearance is not something I care to be seen worrying about (now that's real vanity, folks). But at this point, it's clearly about avoiding death and living long enough to recoup some of what I've paid into my retirement. Still, I'd rather be making something or doing something that has a product at the end of it: "Look, I built this shed," not "Look at me ... I'm marginally less flabby than I was before."

But I want to live forever, and healthily. So I've been running on a treadmill, which is even worse than running in a circle, obviously. And Bowflexing, if you can believe that, for more than the 20 minutes a day, 3 days a week they talk about on the infomercial.

I must be overdoing it because I don't look anything like that guy. Maybe I should back off a little!

In conclusion, I have experienced a high or two in my life, I have to admit, but it's never been a "runner's high." I think the runner's high is a lie perpetuated by fanatics, to be honest with you. Or maybe the high is actually just the smugness of being so fit and lean?

Either way, I figure I waste time one way or another every day, so I might as well waste some of it running in place on a literal treadmill for once, rather than the metaphorical one I've been trotting on for so long!

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