Since I now lack the “I’m not cleared to exercise because I had major abdominal surgery REMEMBER” excuse – and weigh about 12 pounds more than my normal weight, never mind the spare tire around my mid-section – I need to start exercising.
Notice I don’t even pretend like it’s for my health. Nope, it’s all vanity at this point. Vanity and a sincere desire to get my husband to stop trying to disguise attempts at getting me to find a comparable (expensive) hobby like his mountain-biking as “suggestions to get you out of the house, because I know you go a little crazy being home all day.”
Totally true, but I still think his motives are slightly more ulterior.
So, exercising. I hate it. I don’t like pain, am not built to push through discomfort for the sake of some goal, and tend to just stop when I hate something rather than try to prove something to someone about how I can do it. But since this extra weight ain’t gonna lose itself (not in the time frame I’m looking for, which is NOW), I’m going to need to suck it up.
I did exercise regularly for almost two years once upon a time, back when my schedule was as crazy as it is now and it seemed like a better idea to go to the gym when I was tired but couldn’t sleep than to while away the hours watching soap operas. (Note: this was pre-internet.) I lifted weights then, at a gym my then-husband frequented, and it was great.
Now? I’m annoyed at the ridiculous “startup fees” charged by gyms. Sure, sure, at some point I’ll give in and pay them, but for now I’m still holding out, wallet still recovering from all the baby paraphernalia.
My plan, then (WOW, way to get to it hundreds of words later – remember, I’m not editing because I have about two and a half seconds to blog while my kid “naps” aka: makes elephant sounds of annoyance because he’s not in my arms while his eyes are closed) is a week of regular walking + yoga to hopefully help me stop walking like an old person (“My bones ache! Must be a storm coming.”) and then Couch-to-5K.
Blegh, running, but since I continue to hear that people love it once they get past the initial hate and have lost pounds while doing it, I will try it. Blegh.
Questions for you: do I need to buy running shoes to dabble in the running thing or can I wear my year-old Nike Shox? Please say I don’t need to buy shoes, because then I’ll spend weeks obsessing over the right ones, spend too much, and then lose the oomph to actually use them. Also, do any well-endowed ladies have sports bra recommendations? My local running shop (what? my husband was spending way too long drooling over bikes at the bike shop so my bored self wandered into the running shop next door) carries Something Movement bras that looked like they’d do the job, but they didn’t carry anything bigger than a DD. Lastly, any tips for how I can manage to not die? My plan was to just run in the neighborhood, but a) then people I know will see me, people who mountain bike and run marathons and compete in triathlons and those are just the people on one side of the street and b) the hills, the steep, steep hills! Seriously, my neighborhood is stupid steep, meaning I can barely walk the loop without dying, much less run. Should I drive to a flatter place? That seems stupid.
Oy. My husband’s already researching running strollers (to which I snort in laughter, because hello, just saying the word “running” makes me puke a little bit) and planning out his comparable mountain bike purchases.