Exercise?!? Ugh!
Many of my high school students hate reading. They complain about every book, whine, try to put off reading, and just lack the stamina to get through a book. It frustrates me to no end, yet I can understand their struggles.
While their disdain is for reading, mine is for working out. When I’m exercising, I feel like a high school student trying to get out of reading Great Expectations. I make excuses, I complain, I get angry, I throw a fit. I want to quit before I even start. In fact, when I’m working out, I tell myself what I tell the kids; you have to just muster through, keep going, and know that it’s just something you have to do.
But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.
I’ve always been non-athletic (this is a definite understatement). In third grade, my mom had the brilliant idea to sign me up for a soccer league so I could make new friends. It was a minor success; I scored two goals during my three year soccer career.
One of these goals was for the opposing team. One was sheer luck.
In gym class, I was the student always getting injured. I got hit with frisbees and volleyballs. During an obstacle course, I was selected to be the human wheelbarrow. I had no upper arm strength and ended up wiping out. . . I banged my chin off the floor as our entire gym class watched. I had a black and blue chin for weeks. My only B ever was in gym class in 8th grade (My dad bought me Tai-Bo tapes for Christmas that year to “help” me improve. He still laughs about it).
As an adult, I know plenty of women who adore working out, love going to the gym. I try to see where they are coming from . . . but I’m pretty sure I just end up looking at them like they are nuts. The gym bug never bit me, and I don’t think it ever will. In our world that is obsessed with appearances, sometimes there is a sense of shame that comes with an anti-gym rat’s lifestyle choices. I’ve felt embarrassed to admit I hate exercising, felt like I wasn’t responsible. Now, though, I’m come to accept it as a part of who I am. No one can master every facet of life, no one can own every good habit.
There is one exercise program that I stick to, and that is Jazzercise. It doesn’t feel like exercising; it is an awesome dance aerobics class that has great songs and fun moves. I spend so much time focusing on the dance moves due to my lack of coordination that I forget that I’m working out. Even this class, however, only gets me off my butt two days a week.
Luckily for me, I have a pretty fast metabolism and I am somewhat hyperactive at home. I never sit still, always milling around the house. Nonetheless, I’m not going to be on the cover of Shape magazine anytime soon. Six pack abs were once a dream of mine . . . until I realized how many crunches I would have to do. I will never be accused of being a gym rat, a health nut, or anything of the sort. While I would like to find some motivation to get healthier, to be fitter, I just don’t know if it will happen for me.
I think, though, I’ve realized one thing–each of us has our own “gym” hatred within us. Maybe yours isn’t literally the gym, like me. Maybe your “gym” is reading, cooking, or public speaking. Maybe it’s socializing or doing chores. Maybe it’s all of the above. I think the answer to life isn’t to perfect everything, to make ourselves love every self-bettering ideal. However, I think that we have to do our best to be open minded, to overcome our hates, and to find a happy medium. So off I go to my second Jazzercise class of the week. I’m not smiling, and I would rather stay on this couch with a book in my hand . . .but off I go.
Lindsay Detwiler, Voice of Innocence
