Anyone who’s followed this blog for any length of time knows how I feel about exercise, so you’d think MSB would know too. We went for a walk the other day, me trying desperately to keep up with his stride.
“You’re going too fast.”
“This pace is better exercise.”
“If this is exercise, I’m going home. I’m out for a stroll. I don’t exercise.”
He slowed down.
Soon we reached the stop sign about a half-mile from our house. Usually, especially when I’ve had a surgery sometime during the year (like this year), this is as far as I can go. That day, I wanted to go as far as the bridge to the left, but MSB wanted to take the hill to the right.
“It’s better exercise.”
“I’m not exercising, I’m out for a stroll.”
We went left.
I tried to explain that I’ve never liked exercise, that I’ll play anything he wants–baseball, basketball, tennis–but I won’t exercise. I’ll stroll, but not power walk.
After awhile, we still hadn’t reached the bridge and I was huffing like the weak ball of flab that I am.
“If we’d gone right, we’d be on our way home by now,” he said.
“But I want to see the bridge.”
“You’re not going to make it to the bridge.”
“It’s just up the road a bit.”
So, after a bit, we still hadn’t reached the bridge, and my legs were protesting to my brain, This is too much like exercise. But I wasn’t going to say anything because after all, we could’ve been home by now.
“All you’re going to see at the bridge is a dry creek bed.”
“I know, but I’ve never seen it dry before, so I want to go.”
Funny how stubbornness can override screaming muscles.
Finally we made it to the bridge. It’s a beautiful, old wooden bridge, deep in the woods, suspended over a dry creek bed–and a heckuva lot farther from my house than I thought. I ooohed and aaaahed over absolutely everything to both buy time before I had to walk back on cramping calves and creaking knees, and to validate walking all that way for what apparently was no reason whatsoever.
“You ready to head back?”
“Yes,” I lied. What I meant was, I’ll just sit here and wait while you go get the truck and come back for me. I’ll be fine. Really.
The trek back was slow and painful, with me stopping periodically to catch my brea—enjoy the fall flowers.
“You know, if we carried weights, we can get twice as much exercise in half as much time.”
“I don’t exercise.” By this point, I didn’t stroll either. I was convinced the best exercise I would ever get was pounding the puter keys or poking the TV remote. I’d have the world’s strongest fingers.
Home never looked so good, but there was still the slight incline up to the house. Could I make it? Could I move muscles that were sending orders to my brain to just die? Just die right now on this stupid gravel drive. Just die!
Guess I made it–I’m here, sitting at the puter, exercising my . . . uh, strolling my fingers across the keyboard.
Several years into it, and this blog still refuses to be categorized. It's eclectic and includes everything from writing posts to snippets from my ordinary life. 
Linda W. Yezak 
A woman after my heart. I believe in exercise, but not the “power-walk” versions that pumps up a lot of people. I walk the dog, I walk 5 blocks to the bus stop and back, I walk up and down stairs. But anything more vigorous than that, forget it.
Part of it has to do with my weak heart, but mostly I don’t get driving yourself to the point of collapse, just because you want to stay in shape. It’s better to improve your health by degrees than try and do it all at once.
~ VT
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I have such a sedentary lifestyle that it’s a wonder I can walk any distance at all. Before all my surgeries between 2000 and 2003, I was in far better shape even though my disease had been undiagnosed. Now that my disease is under control, you’d think I’d be in better shape, but a newborn kitten has more strength and stamina! 😛
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Here’s how I look at it.
I’m competing against myself.
So when I powerwalk I’m seeing if I can make two miles in less time than the last time. When I work out in yoga, weights, and/or cardio I try to extend myself beyond what my body thinks it can handle.
It comes from years of someone telling me, “I can’t,” and I’m out to prove them wrong, or so I tell myself. It’s another competition thing. I seem to thrive on competition. LOL.
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Did I mention how great (and sweaty) I feel afterwards? LOL. I enjoyed reading your blog. It was hilarious!
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I’m so glad you liked my post. God love ya. You must really get a kick out of this overweight weakling!
I have a competitive nature, too. I could take you down in Scrabble, and you don’t want to face me in 42 or bridge–or Texas Hold ‘Em for that matter (playing for chips only, never cash). But don’t ask me to play a full round of racketball again. Haven’t been able to do that since college!
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Heh-heh. :p I love my after-supper walks, but I have to admit that by that time of the day, I’m much more interested in “strolling” myself.
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I used to love walking with my girlfriends, but they all moved away and were replaced by hermits like me. Sigh.
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I can’t leave a ser-ous comment. I’m laughing too hard. And it feels like exercise.
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Giggle!!!
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Reblogged this on 777 Peppermint Place and commented:
Thought you might enjoy this one again. When I get well, I’ll have to join a gym and my opinion of “exercising” will have to change, but meantime, I still hold this one. Love to all.
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LOL. I loved this post. It made me giggle. :o) Also dropping by to say hi.
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