I hate to exercise. There, I said it. I may now get deported from Colorado.
But I really do hate exercising. I hate running on a treadmill for an hour, and never changing my actual location. I hate that most gyms have a huge wall of mirrors. What, is that supposed to encourage me? To watch myself turn all red in the face and jiggle in all the wrong places?
Of course, exercising outside is better. But with the 8 billion feet of snow we’ve had, that just hasn’t been possible. And when it has warmed up, I’ve either been sitting in my cube at work, or have had other plans that can’t be broken.
But today, I had some free time. So I decided to exercise. And you know what, it was great. When I started, I could feel the muscles in hips tightening, straining with each step. My knees protested-but it was a weak protest, like children who protest against something everyone knows they will end up liking. When I stomped the heavy mud off of my shoes, the nerves in my legs tingled. It was like my body was waking up from a long hibernation, testing the waters, and deciding that, yes, I do still know how to walk.
Maybe Colorado won’t deport me after-all.