The universe has been shouting at me since that last post: Stop dreaming! "I dream of being active." Get over it! Get out of the house and go work out! Rejoin a hockey league -- you can do it midseason.
And, while I miss hockey, I am certain that if I started playing now I'd injure myself immediately. I mean, I play recreational hockey, but I'm not even at a recreational level of fitness. And that's the problem. I really don't like all that fitness stuff, except for how it makes me feel afterwards. I can walk for hours, given something to look at or listen to, but going to the gym? Sweating? I don't think so.
Things I can do instead of working out:
- Read
- Nap
- Watch my latest Netflix video
- Do a crossword puzzle
- Do a sudoku
- Knit
- Nap
- Paint my walls
- Go online to play with paint colors on fictitious walls
- Unpack boxes in my extra bedroom
- Clean something
- Write something
- Get together with friends and sit around and talk
- Get together with friends and sit around a table and play poker or some other game.
All that time I was working out with a trainer and going to yoga: it was because
- I was bored, and
- I had an appointment, had paid money, and appreciated having someone make decisions about what I was going to do next.
I'm shaking my fist at the universe right now, shouting, "Um ... well, yeah, you! I ... um...."
2 comments:
Oh Lisa, I hear you on the sweating thing. Right there with you. If I didn't know better, I'd say we were related ;)
Hey, I didn't know you were a reader!
Did O and G get couch potato genes, or do they take after their freakish uncle?
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