It goes without saying that I HATE to exercise. There. I put it in bold letters, ever stressing that I truly hate to exercise. Everyone who knows me knows this is a true statement.
I did fairly well at keeping my weight on an even keel before moving out west. A few years ago, I followed the Weight Watchers diet and did pretty damn good on it. I did, however, have help. A bunch of us walked at school. We’d gather after school and walk the hallways. We were sorta like those old ‘mall walkers’ you see racing through the mall at a fast paced clip. They walked through the mall, we walked the halls at school.
Starting out, we all had good intentions. Nancy and I even walked on breaks, using the time to do our ‘dime diving’ (stories for another blog..lol). Eventually, the after school group started dwindling until there were only a couple of us left. It wasn’t long until the only walking I did was either on breaks with Nancy or to and from the car across the parking lot of Target or school.
The good thing was, I worked. I was always going here and there, rarely staying in one place long enough to let those extra bags of cellulite gather on my legs. At home, I was cleaning or doing laundry. During the summers, I’d mow the lawn but even that chore soon left my hands and was handed over to it's rightful owner. Because I was seemingly always on the go, my weight pretty much stayed even.
Until I moved here. I’m not working and I’m rarely on the go. These two factors equal one thing ~ the gathering of the cellulite. So, last fall I started hitting the treadmill. Because hell, I can’t swim every day and well, my swimming quickly turns to lazy floating on my raft.
Now, at one point, the treadmill was in the extra bedroom but when it became apparent that that space needed to be used as it was intended, the treadmill was relegated to the garage. Last fall I started hitting the treadmill. As I hit a momentum, I found myself out there on a regular schedule. I did great ~ the legs started to slim down, the butt started to go back to it’s normal shape and size and I was cussing the treadmill out on a daily basis. Life was good.
During all this, I forgot one small detail. I forgot that once summer arrived and the temperature outside hit anywhere from 105 to 120, that meant that the temperature in the garage would be a comfortable 102-108. Not exactly my idea of a nice brisk walk on the treadmill. Hey, I don’t mind breaking a sweat but I don’t want to bathe in it. Besides, summer is when the spiders are out and we all know how I feel about the spiders. One thing I’m not going to do is take a stroll with one of those bad boys that seem to get off on sending me screaming like a little girl back into the house.
The treadmill has become one of those things I’ve given up during the summer months. I mean, seriously, can you picture yourself walking at a brisk, heart racing clip in an unventilated room where the temperature is at least 105? Nope, me either.
So, I look at it as something like Lent. During Lent, I give up chocolate. Kinda. During the summer, I give up the treadmill. Totally.
I know, hell of a sacrifice but somebody has to do it.
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