I hate exercise.
I literally loath feeling breathless, sweaty, jiggly and disorientated. I want to make that abundantly clear before I continue. In this conversation I think it’s important to state any prior allegiance. I vote couch potato. Every time.
I love nothing more than starting at the pilot episode of a well established ‘Golden Globe’ series. Spending entire days behind drawn curtains, perfecting the art of eating chips without sitting up and twisting my hair into a hobo version of a messy bun. To me, this whole scenario screams satisfying weekend. I feel like clapping for joy.
Though lately I’ve taken a different path. Mostly to keep my mind off obsessively texting my ex and a weak attempt at redirecting the urge to throw myself at him in every way a woman can. It’s not been my finest hour.
I knew I needed a new focus and fast.
It started as simply as getting up when my alarm went off.
I’m actually one of those people that sets 5 alarms at 10 minute intervals, only leaving the warm embrace of my blanket when I have a quarter hour left to shower, dress, feed the dog, pack my bag and find shoes before running frazzled out the door and using the drive to work to develop an original lie as to why I am late. Again. *Long disappointing sigh.
So leaping out of bed first go is ground breaking for me and I want this triumph reflected in my eulogy.
This small change has really affected my attitude. Turns out I am actually a morning person. I would never have guessed with the furrowed eye brows, ass puckered lips and seething energy I’ve always projected before mid day.
Newest discovery, I am bubbly before sunrise.
Please hold back the dramatic eye roll. Believe me I get it. I’m a skeptic too. But hear me out.
With my new lease on life I started walking. Not far, not fast. I just walked. You could call it leisurely or sluggish, both descriptions are accurate.
Many years ago I decided to take a stand against the health industry, I’d of course change my tune and try to lose 20kgs two weeks before Christmas, fail miserably, vow in my resolutions to be leaner in the next. Only to again, go on strike and spend the next 10 months eating chocolate for breakfast.
Clearly this is not a post about exercising.
It’s about giving yourself some much needed space to think. It’s about getting some fresh air into your lungs, letting the sun caress your skin and the wind whisper in your ears. It’s about selfishly spending time on you.
If all you do is sit in your backyard amongst your knee high lawns and take a deep breath then good on you!
This sedentary life is doing us no good. We spend too much time inside, lying down. I’m convinced that this is the downfall of creativity and the death of spontaneity. The television is killing our imagination and our relationships with it.
The date night default, dinner and a movie is ruining us. Especially when that’s the height of romance.
We’re setting the bar low.
Since spending more time outside, my mind is awakening, sparks of ideas, pulses of energy, moments of joy, I notice them all.
I’ve enjoyed the years I’ve spent watching my favorite actors live the life I desired, have the adventures I’d dream and kiss the boys I wanted. And that’s when it occurred to me, life doesn’t happen inside.
I’m not saying that I won’t marathon Gilmore Girls next week, but I am saying that I might drag my mattress out onto the deck to watch it. You never know what may come my way if I just put myself out there a bit.