Last summer I was active, hopping on my bike most days, or going to the Y to work out.
I planned to do that this summer, too-- make up for my relative inactivity during the school year. When I got home from school each afternoon, my choice was: read the paper in a prone position on the couch, or go to the gym.
Duh!
I told myself I'd make up for it this summer. I'd firm up, trim down and . . .. Oh, the best laid plans.
The thing is, I like to exercise; working up a sweat feels good, and makes me feel that I've done myself some good besides. I like being in shape.
So what is my problem?
David, soon to be off to college, has himself on a program to get ready for basketball season. "Just exercise when I do, Mom," he says when I complain about my slump.
But that's his schedule; the timing is not right for me. Or is that an excuse?
"Will you write me out a list of exercises to do?" I ask.
"Mom." He's stern. "You didn't follow the other list I gave you."
"I just can't seem to get motivated," I say. "I just don't have the desire."
"You just have to do it, Mom," he tell me. "Set a time and stick to it. It doesn't take that much time."
I know this. I use to tell him the same thing a couple of years ago. He's right.
So what, exactly, is my problem?
I've been restless this summer. Sleep is elusive. I wake early, my mind already in gear. This isn't me. Or it is me, some strange new me that I'm not used to yet, not sure I like as much.
My exercise this summer is fingers flying across the keyboard as I write, and walking with my camera, exercising my shutter finger.
This is not without benefits, just more mental ones than physical.
I walk, and drink in images that go straight from my eyes to my soul, and I need to capture them in more than my memory. So I snap picture after picture-- sheer digital gluttony-- until I have filled some well inside of me. Then I walk home, "writing" my thoughts in my head to be recorded later, maybe.
And why do I complain about doing something that is so fulfilling, so pleasurable? Maybe because it doesn't make me sweat? Maybe because it is what I want to do, not what I think I should do? Maybe because something inside says I should be doing something "constructive."
I need to find the balance point-- pure pleasure balanced against the "shoulds." Right now my scale is tilted in pleasure's favor. Maybe I'm just lucky and don't know it yet.
Comments
-Detective Roger Stark
"There are limits to negotiation."
Janice~ When I dog sat a couple of weeks ago, I saw how having a dog could have it's benefits, apart from the love of course. And then I pictured myself walking him out of duty and necessity in the New England winter . . . and I was glad I have a cat.
Bon Appetit
-Detective Roger Stark
"There are limits to negotiation."
Nine egg yolks?
I am kind of put off by the idea of raw frozen yolk in my otherwise sweet sweat inducing dessert. One yolk maybe, but nine?
My fried eggs have to be flipped and "cooked hard." No oozy ovaries for me.
...followed by a big bowl of Cherry Garcia, of course. But I have been advised by someone who knows, that a bowl of Cherry Garcia serves as one serving of fruit :-)
I know the feeling of wanting to do all things at once and still not getting to what I want.
You have to be patient and trusting in yourself and eventually the answer comes.