Back on the (exercise) wagon

“I never thought I would see the day when my wife would actually exercise.” 

My husband and I have been friends for over half our lives.  Never in those thirteen years has he ever known me to exercise on purpose.  Lively games of badminton (making eyes at each other across the net) and long walks together (holding hands or wishing we were) have been the closest I’ve come.  I’ve made my disdain of exercise something of a personal fashion statement. 

Sports-loving athletic girl I am not.  The care-free country girl with the naturally slender figure is much more me.  It’s just that the naturally slender figure doesn’t come care-free any more.

I’m not sure if there was more pride or genuine disbelief in my husband’s voice when he made that statement two weeks into the “Losing It” contest.  But I took the disbelief as a challenge, the pride as an encouragement.

Only, I sorta kinda fell off the (exercise) wagon for a little while there.  We made our last visit to my parents’ before the busyness of spring strikes the farm.  I had grand plans of taking walks in the field—like we had time for in yesteryear.  I could even picture myself doing my push-ups along with my little sister.

Somehow, none of that happened during our two weeks at my parents’.  All that extra time I used to have for long walks was taken up with baths and bedtime routines.  And I wasn’t exactly excited about doing my push-ups and Russian twists there on the living room floor in front of my 12-year-old brother who could do, like, umpteen more repetitions than I could. 

I did, however, maintain the same weight—perhaps even dropping a pound or two from what I was when I left.  I’ve found that I don’t snack at other people’s houses like I do when I’m home.  Maybe it’s because my mom still keeps the chocolate chips just out of my arms’ reach?  Or maybe it’s just that it would seem impolite to be mindlessly snacking between meals (even though I did it when I was growing up there!).  Regardless, I ate better for the past two weeks.  Even if my little sister and I were putting into practice the motto “feed a cold, starve a fever” as soon as we caught colds.  Even if I didn’t exactly exercise. 

I went out to coffee exactly three times (hey, I had old friends to catch up with, and what better way than over coffee?).  But other than that, I drank only one cup of coffee—the rest of the time it was tea, and lots and lots of that good fresh well water I grew up on.  (I have well water here at home, too, it just has a bit more taste—or more accurately, smell—to it.)

We’re back home on the farm now.  It feels like spring.  It feels like the weather for a long brisk walk.  It feels like the perfect temperature to dig in the dirt and stir up my compost.  It feels like time for exercise in the great outdoors as well as those Mommy-style push-ups and Russian twists inside. 

I’m prioritizing.  And you can be sure that exercise is making it on my priority list. 

Especially since that magazine my brother-in-law gave me with the Russian twist exercises in it emphasized that you should take a break from exercising every few days, but you should never, ever skip more than one day of exercises.  Ahem.  Yes.  It’s a good thing rules are made to be broken.  But I’m back on the exercise wagon.  And I’m losing it!