Getting out of shape is so much easier than getting in shape. I put my feet up, eat lots of cookies, and never move at a pace faster than a trot (A trot is only undertaken to go between the car and the store in the pouring rain).
Yet, I know I must do something “for the health” as they say in Korea. In Korea, they drink this awful liquid yogurt and each time before they down it, they say, “for the health!” I find this a fabulous motivational statement. However, I refuse to drink the awful liquid yogurt.
Dale undertook his “for the health” routine at the very start of January. He had finally gone to see a doctor for a physical and his family history of high blood pressure/high cholesterol had caught up with him. So, at the beginning of January, he added weight lifting and healthy eating to his running.
In 20 days, he already looks healthier and he feels better. I figured I better jump on the wagon. Of course, when you haven’t moved for a while, jumping may be a bit much to start out with.
The kids have tried to convince me to get in shape using the Wii fit. I refuse for the simple fact that the computer determines the size of your little person on the screen (your Mii) by your current weight. This came as a complete shock to Dale who watched his Mii widen after he stepped on the Wii board.
The kids laughed and laughed at Daddy’s fat Mii, and I was ever so grateful that he did it first and spared me the embarrassment. I don’t think they can make a Mii character skinnier than Josiah’s and I don’t want to see mine standing next to his.
The Wii also lectures you. Last night it told Abby it hadn’t seen her in 180 days. I am currently refusing to be insulted by this machine. Instead, I leave the insults to my pets. They are much more subtle.
I have always liked to walk and always hated to run, but have decided that my “for the health” routine could use a little running. I spectate at Dale and Josiah’s 5k races and see plenty of people just trotting along. When you start running after sitting for many years, you are supposed to alternate walking with running at a pace where you could comfortably carry on a conversation.
Running is never comfortable for me and I am quite certain no one would want to chat with me while run. I do not think I could find any kind words to say and would remain the entire time most disagreeable.
This is not the situation with those who love things “for the health.” My sister in law, Karin once asked me, “Don’t you just love when those endorphins start firing?” I, of course, was thinking, “No. I love curling up by the fire with a good book.”
Blaze has been along for my first run attempts and feels it is his job to “spur me on.” I’ll start trotting a bit and he’ll pull the leash and look at me as if to say, “Come on lady, you can do better than this.” I then start a less than pleasant conversation with him.
His other trick is to get to the place where he knows I am going to start running again and take off at a much faster pace a step before I start. We then have another less than pleasant conversation.
I trot for awhile and walk for awhile and trot for awhile and walk for awhile. My first goal is to make it around the short path without stopping. This is a whopping half mile. A long time ago in my earlier life, I actually ran a 10k (6.2 miles). This seems impossible to believe at the moment.
Today, I saw a genuine runner while I was trotting along. He greeted me with an energetic “good morning.” Runners are so encouraging to one another no matter how slow your pace. It is one of the remarkable things I’ve observed at races.
My brother Rob, who just came for a visit, says he gets all his encouragement from his 3 year old son, Marcus. Rob pushes him in the jogging stroller and Marcus constantly tells him, “Faster, Daddy, faster.” Rob can’t convince Marcus that faster is not an option.
When I get back from my trot, I do some exercises with hand weights. This is the point where the pets trade off and Patches becomes my motivational trainer. The first time she saw me work out, she arched her back and stood there like a halloween cat horrified by the sudden movements.
Patches adheres to the cat philosophy of “unless you are attacking something, it is best to laze about,” so my movements were a mystery to her. Her goal while I’m working out is to do whatever is necessary to get in the way. “Lay on the mat, sniff my shoe, dash back and forth, pounce, etc.
Blaze spends the entire time I’m working out with hand weights scratching the back sliding door to be let in so he can play too. There was a cartoon titled Why you never hear the term ‘dog burglar’ in the paper a couple weeks ago. It showed a burglar standing at the glass door watching two people inside. The woman tells the man “If he doesn’t stop whining and scratching to come in, I’m calling the police.”
