First, my triumphant announcement: Book 14 is finally live, hooray! (Click here for retailer links) Now, as long as there are no SNAFUs with the retailers, I can breathe a sigh of relief. *crosses fingers* Maybe I’ll even kick back and relax for a day or two.
Or maybe I should go and work out instead…
I have a love/hate relationship with exercise. I’ve always been a bit of a jock, but I also have a bad case of inertia: Bodies at rest want to remain at rest, and mine is no exception.
So I’m working away, planted comfortably in my chair, when I realize it’s mid-afternoon and my butt is putting down permanent roots into the chair cushions. That’s when my better self murmurs, “You should get up and exercise.”
My lazy self whines, “But I’m busy and I don’t wanna! I’ll have to change my clothes, and exercising takes so much time, and it’s hard…”
This argument goes on for a while, but my better self (usually) prevails and pries me out of the chair. It helps that I’m eager to get in shape for martial arts again — even though I’m too old and slow to compete, I still love to kick and punch the hell out of something that won’t hit back.
So I get changed and get started. Then there’s another whole round of whining until the endorphins kick in and I really get into my workout. By the end, I’m frizzy-haired, red-faced, sweat-soaked, and grinning with the knowledge that I’m closer to my goal. That afterglow carries me for the rest of the day, but the following morning is a different story.
I creak out of bed groaning and swearing and questioning my own sanity. I mean, seriously, what’s the point? I’m going to die sooner or later anyway, and all the exercise in the world won’t change that. Why am I putting myself through this? I could just schlep around being comfortably weak, and I’d only be sore on the rare occasions when I overdo it. I wouldn’t be sore every damn day. *whine, whine, grumble*
I was in my ‘cranky’ phase a few weeks ago when I arrived at my painting group. After struggling with my watercolour for a while, I let out a martyred sigh and announced, “I’m tired of trying so hard all the time! Why can’t there be just one thing in life that’s easy?”
One of my painting buddies spoke up immediately. “Gaining weight is easy.”
I stared at her, happily enlightened. “Dang, you’re right! And it’s fun, too!”
“Except for the long-term consequences.”
“Uh, well… yeah…”
So I’m sticking to my exercise program. It’s slowly getting easier.
And hey, that painting turned out okay, too. After nearly two years of weekly attempts, I’ve finally created something I might just hang on the wall! But I can’t decide on a mat colour. Opinions, please? (Click the thumbnails to enlarge.)