Back on the Horse

You know it's January when I've exercised three times in one week.

I'll admit that there are a few reasons why I've just never been one to exercise. First, I'm lazy and undisciplined. True story. I'd totally rather sleep for that extra 60 minutes in the morning than get up before the kids and force myself to do something that requires exertion. Even on the occasional times when I've actually chosen exercise over sleep and I'm so glad that I did and I know I feel better, I'll ususally choose sleeping the next morning. Second, I've been lucky in my body type as to not really ever have to worry about reaching or maintaining a certain pant size, (ok, except for that summer I ate my way through several major cities in Western Europe). Third, frankly, I just don't like it. I can't think of a time when I've been running that I am not wholly and entirely counting down until the last step when I am finished. Runner's high? Whatever. And the only times I've had a regular exercise regimen is when I've been in a partnership with someone else making sure that I was putting in the time. So I guess that in addition to being lazy, I'm a little codependent as well.

You could deduce that when it comes to exercise I pretty much detest it. Sometimes I feel badly for Adam that he didn't get a hiking, biking, skiing partner out of our marriage since I count the two times I ran a 10K next to natural childbirth in my list of top physical achievements.

In all fairness, however, I should also add that I've just never adopted a philosophy of exercise. There is a part of me that feels it's somewhat vain and selfish to spend the time (and, often times, the money) it takes for a regular work-out regime when I can't help but feel like I really should be doing something better--like teaching my daugher her alphabet, or taking up piano again, or cleaning some neglected part of the house, or spending Adam's hard-earned money on sale items on the Gap--even when I don't usually do any of those things either. I secretly take pride in telling people that I mow the lawn on our 3/4-acre myself instead of a YMCA membership, because it satisfies my personal philosophy that I can still get true exercise without having to "waste" my time and money on it like the rest of you. See, I work out the old-fashioned way, like God intended!

The only exception to this has been yoga. I first started practicing (as they say) yoga when Olivia was a baby and I started taking a regular and free yoga class with some of my neighbors in Berkeley. Here was my first real taste of the exhilaration involved in pushing your body harder and farther than it has ever physically and mentally gone and you're really hurting but still loving every moment of it--all at the same time. And that feeling, I admit, is a high. So this is what I've been missing out on! It made me feel strong and powerful and respectful of the body's physical abilities, but at the same time it was a challenging exercise in mental mastery. I finally realized that it must be this combination of the physcial and the mental that makes exercising so incredibly satisfying for so many people.

Then I moved, and despite my conversion to yoga and all my best intentions to keep practicing, my inner lazy and cheap took over and I haven't done anything since I was in the first trimester with Isabel. But here's a new year with new resolutions and new encouragement from my husband telling me that it's actually ok to spend money on fitness, and so I signed up for a class at our local community center. So far I'm pretty happy and our first session was great. Not that I'm any kind of expert, but let's just say that to me the "vibe" you get from an instructor in yoga is pretty important, and so far the vibe is good and the practice session was really nice (although I could have used a little longer in shavasana, but probably that's because it had been so darn long since I'd done anything before that I was a little pooped).

So it's a good start to January, and I'm hoping a good start for 2008.