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I hate working out. Okay, maybe hate's a strong word. How about despise, loathe or...or...nope, hate's about right. There is nothing about working out that I like. I find it boring, repetitive, tedious and...well...tiring.
I mentioned once in a previous newsletter that I have a trainer. That sounds pretty high falootin', but it's not. (There are ways to do it that make it more affordable than you may think.) A couple of years ago, I simply admitted a truth to myself; that is, if I don't have someone to make me, I simply will not exercise. I won't do it on my own. I know-I've seen myself not do it many times.
I'm aware that as I get older exercise is going to mean a significant upgrade in my quality of life. I know that if I start now, I'll get some immediate benefit (lower stress, greater energy, clearer mind, reduced aches and pains), but the real benefit will come years from now when I am still able to function reasonably well. That's my plan.
With this in mind, two years ago I found a workout facility about twenty minutes from my home, joined it and found Andrea. She's a six-foot tall, former volleyball player...and she's as good a trainer as anyone could ever want. Demanding, without being pushy, kind without being lenient. She's incredibly creative, has a great sense of humor and she makes the hour go by quickly.
Thank God!
Last fall, Andrea upped the ante by signing me up for yoga. That's right. I didn't sign up. She didn't ask me. She simply put it on my workout calendar. (Maybe she is a little pushy.) I went, of course, and have been going regularly since.
And I hate it.
I feel like I'm back in grade school in a tedious class constantly looking at the clock, always disappointed it isn't further along. The more I stare at the hands of the clock, the slower they crawl.
But I do it.
Last month Andrea got even bolder. She signed me up for Pilates. Pilates? You mean those exercises for girls? Yep, those. I swear she lives to torture me.
Pilates is akin to yoga, but emphasizes the core while yoga emphasizes flexibility. I showed up to my first class a few weeks ago. Yeah, I hate Pilates too.
But I do it.
Too often, we don't make the connection between our behaviors today and the lives we live tomorrow. We tend to frolic in the moment without facing honestly what might be awaiting us. I'm a live-in-the-now guy, but I have to weigh that against the chance I'm going to live for a while.
If I spend four hours per week working out, that is only about 2.5% of my time. Only 2.5%! That means I'm not working out 97.5% of the time! That's not bad. That 2.5%, though an annoyance, really seems a small investment for the payoff it ultimately brings.
Now, you exercise junkies don't start extolling to me the joys of working out. Don't tell me how great it feels to work up a sweat, or how invigorating it is to go for a run, or how energizing it is to go on a bike ride, or about the meditative qualities of yoga, or the empowerment of running the Chicago Marathon. I'm glad you enjoy it. Knock yourselves out.
I will never be one of you.
But that doesn't mean I won't work out. At some point we can't live only for the moment. We've got to see the big picture. And if a few minutes of annoying tedium reaps a higher quality of life...well then bring on the yoga...the Pilates...and, yes, Andrea.
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