It amuses me at how determined I think I am, as portrayed in the previous post. Now that I'm free from any sort of studying and/or homework (at least until August..), blogging isn't as much of an escape as it was a few months ago, when I had been blogging at full speed. Anyway, I'm back in L.A. for the summer, looking for work, and generally not missing New Mexico (to my NM friends, I said "generally"! God, chill out..).
I guess it's time to get to the meaning of this post's title. I decided last week that it was high time I started exercising, so I did, and continue doing so. Sunday was my first time exercising in three years*, and I'm not even kidding when I write this, it almost crippled me. I thought I was being easy on myself by simply running down to the dog park and back in the mornings (it's only a few blocks away). I figured running was a good place to start, and by no means am I interested in body-building, I just want to be able to run from the television to the fridge and back without getting winded.
When I got home from my morning jaunt, my legs felt as if they had been beaten down with a hammer, and for the next two days I hobbled around as if I were expecting my water to break at any moment. I let myself recuperate the next day, and also decided I should only run every other morning if I wanted to continue walking without the use of a cane, (even though there are some pretty awesome canes out there).
As with most things, the second time around wasn't so bad, and my friend Alexander was there to help me keep my pace. I don't seem to be limping today, so I guess the initial shock my body went through is over, and for that I'm glad. :)
*I was required to take at least two years of physical education in high school. So that exercising had been mandatory, and not consensual at all (like rape, except to your muscles, and not your genitals).
image via the always excellent MarriedtotheSea.com
0 comments:
Post a Comment