When given the choice between nachos and beer or exercise I
will always go for the carb loaded, fat filled, glutenous relaxation. The idea of a “runners high” exercise
endorphins or any other crazy bullshit is ridiculous. These “people” have lost their minds. Maybe they have just gotten to the point
after eating raw veggies that pounding the pavement feels like an award. A way to escape from the monotony that has
become their culinary lifestyle.
Unfortunately my desire for a cheese and wine filled existence is not
compatible with my gene pool. Yes, I
begrudgenly lace up my shoes daily and head out for some form of exercise. I have fancy filled visions in my head of
looking sleek in my jogging pants and top.
That the look appears natural on me.
That nobody is doubting my reason for wearing the gear. Of course, she is on her way to exercise,
look at her. She is the model of health,
and fitness. Jogging several miles a
day, downward dog with hands fully extended to the floor, any exercise comes
with ease. Then I lace of the shoes and
head out the door determined to make it around the block 1 mile in 12mins. Ok that is doable. That is practically walking. Headphones on, chest up, head high. I got
this. Um nope. Not so much.
Approximately three houses down and I feel like my body might be
shutting down on me. I’m afraid to look
down because I can feel my heart and lungs attempting to rip apart. I’m sure that this may be the end of me. My breathing heavy and labored. What the … I can’t believe looking back at my
driveway.
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