Working it Out

Normally I don't get much time during the week to post, but since Josh is still working and I have a few moments to breathe before I make dinner, I thought I'd share a little insight into what has been bouncing around in my brain today.

As I mentioned in my last post, although I was supposed to begin my exercise regimen last week, it simply didn't happen. There's really no excuse why - it just... didn't. I didn't agonize over it, until of course I got on the scale on Friday and the stupid needle hadn't budged - not even a smidge. Then I started to kick myself that I hadn't made the effort.

From all the years I have been on and off this dieting roller coaster, I know that I am most successful when I stick to a daily caloric goal of around 1250 calories AND move my rumpshaker at least a few times a week. It's not rocket science, you know? I am not completely devoid of understanding what it takes to shed some poundage. It's pretty simple, actually. Eat less, move more. So far, I've been working on the first part of that sentence. Last week proved to me that it's time to focus on the back half (no pun intended, although my own back half could use its own focus of sorts - in the form of squats). The time has come - I've got to peel myself off the couch and get this butt moving.

I'm definitely not one of those people who embraces exercise with every fiber of my being. I know a few of those types of people (my husband is one) and I try not to hate them... too much. Of course - I kid. It's more accurate to say I'm in awe of them. In fact, I would give my eye teeth to have the sort of drive, dedication, and desire they have to move their bodies on a daily basis. To those people, exercise is a way of life. It is enjoyable and fun and is viewed as something they look forward to doing.  Me? Well, I suppose I sort of have a love/hate (mostly hate) relationship with it. Once I'm doing it, I'm ok, but it's the extensive "psyching-up" I require prior to starting the whole shebang that I detest so much. I pretty much go into it kicking and screaming.

So even after Friday's weigh in and with the entire weekend wide open, I avoided exercise like the bubonic plague. It's not that I don't have any exercise equipment here. I do. It's not that I don't have 100 DVD's I can pop in to get my ample arse moving. I do. What I don't have is any acceptable reason why I didn't do it. And yet...

Truth time. I spent the weekend thinking about it. Yes, I said thinking about exercising. A lot. If only thinking about exercise burned as many calories as actually exercising, I'd be a total rail and there would be absolutely no need for this blog. Alas, (sigh) it does not.

I remember when I was younger and still living at my parents' house, I'd watching Gilad Janklowicz's Bodies in Motion on TV. There I'd sit on the couch for 30 minutes almost everyday watching Gil and his two long-limbed exotic-looking female cohorts do aerobics on their mats high up on a lush green hill, overlooking gorgeous turquoise waters, in what I always assumed was Hawaii. I was entranced by how seemingly effortless it was for all three of them to work out for 30 minute straight, in the hot sun, barely working up a sweat while I sat on the couch, sweating from just watching them. I was envious by how easy it seemed for them to move about from one pose to another. One fluid movement blended with the next. They were graceful, svelte, and coordinated. They looked like they were born to aerobicise.

As for me, I have never felt all that comfortable exercising. I feel clumsy and awkward and heavy and ugly. It's not a natural feeling process for me at all. I have never looked, nor can I ever imagine myself looking, remotely athletic or in shape (unless you count round as a shape). Even when I weighed the lowest I ever have in my adult life (40 odd lbs. ago, right before I met Josh), and was frequenting the gym and putting mega miles on the elliptical, I did not feel comfortable. I felt better....but not comfortable. Sure, I felt like I was doing something good for myself...but I did not feel like I was a natural part of that elite group of people that considers themselves fit or athletic. Maybe I just never gave it enough time????

It's tough to put all of my insecurities about how I look and feel when I exercise on the back burner but I have to, because keeping them in the forefront of my mind is poisonous. Those feelings nag at me and provide me fodder to conjure up a million excuses not to work out. Those negative thoughts make me simply not want to do it. And let's face it. Not doing it... is not an option.

I am proud to report that today, I finally took the first step. At 3:30, I locked the door to my classroom, pulled my shades down tight, changed into my unstylish workout duds, and put a Latin Dance DVD in the player, which projects up on my Starboard. For 30 minutes I white-girl sambaed and booty-shook my way through that DVD. All I can say is, thank the Lord there is no mirror in my classroom or I'm not sure I'd have the nerve to try it again.

My work out today is nothing to write home about, but it is a start. And the hope is that within time, I will make friends with exercise and find the activity that feels like the most natural fit to me. And while I may never be like Gil and his beach babes on Bodies in Motion,  that doesn't mean I can't find a motion that feels right for my body.

Here's to discovering the perfect fit for my fitness goals. To be continued....