Phew! I just finished a 4-mile (well, OK, 3.5-mile) aerobic session through the neighborhood with Jane, my host organism and BFF. I struggled to keep her slogging (slow jogging) for as long as possible, but even imaginary friends (IFs) can motivate only so much. Although Jane slowed to a trudge for the last 2 miles, whining about a bad knee and hurt second toe, she still revved up that metabolism in spite of herself. Tennis Anyone?
Earlier today, I “guilt-ed” her out of her recliner where she’s been horizontal for the past several days watching U.S. Open tennis (usopen.org). I also accept a smidgen of guilt for suggesting she check out the tournament, thus initiating her lethargy. However, I'd expected her to get fired up and run outside to perspire sexily like the swift gods and goddesses on the small screen.
Wrong. She claimed that after observing the excellent conditioning of the players, she was too depressed to move. Thereafter, she only jiggled her body mass index (webmd.com) by waggling the remote control or buttering the cinnamon bread her spouse has inconsiderately become obsessed with lately.
Wrong. She claimed that after observing the excellent conditioning of the players, she was too depressed to move. Thereafter, she only jiggled her body mass index (webmd.com) by waggling the remote control or buttering the cinnamon bread her spouse has inconsiderately become obsessed with lately.
Although zoning out on tennis was a bad idea for my couch potato, the Open coverage has surpassed my expectations so far. Tennis legend John McEnroe’s (Wikipedia) witty commentary and insight into the participants’ minds plays like the nostalgic reminiscences at a family reunion. Celebrity sightings plus glimpses of sleek, toned legs, wet hair under headbands, arms cut with gleaming muscles and abs exposed during first serves have kept me happily diverted. What? I might be an IF, but I’m not dead yet.
(Actually, I think Jane and I watched-instead-of-moved during the Beijing Summer Olympics (nbcolympics.com) too but justified this by deciding we could exercise any old time, whereas the Olympics only comes around every four years. You get my point; there’s always an excuse, and butts spread.)
I Hate Exercise
Don’t get me wrong. Unless it’s a mall crawl, I hate exercise (webmd.com). Having slim genes and nice height keep me from stressing about it. But as an IF, I must consider Jane’s lifestyle. "They" say exertion benefits mental and physical health. Heaven knows, Jane could use a boost in both, what with a jolly-but-inattentive husband, diva daughter (see the Kath and Kim video clip at the bottom of this page) and full-time cubicle job in corporate America (see Aug. 26 blog, Cube-Ism Culture).
According to the article, “The Three “E’s”: Exercise, Endorphins and Euphoria” (mens-total-fitness.com), exercise improves your mood and makes you feel better. As I always imagined endorphins to be some special kind of marine mammal, I was surprised to read they were “powerful hormone-like substances produced in the brain that function as the body’s own natural painkillers. During exercise, there is a release of endorphins in the body that are capable of producing feelings of euphoria and a general state of well being.”
Euphoria? Jane? After what she called a “gruesome” workout? No way. But wait. After her shower, she did flash a silly euphoric grin at me as she replanted herself on the sofa and savaged a supersized bag of Cheetos--baked, of course.
IFs often lead frustrating lives.
According to the article, “The Three “E’s”: Exercise, Endorphins and Euphoria” (mens-total-fitness.com), exercise improves your mood and makes you feel better. As I always imagined endorphins to be some special kind of marine mammal, I was surprised to read they were “powerful hormone-like substances produced in the brain that function as the body’s own natural painkillers. During exercise, there is a release of endorphins in the body that are capable of producing feelings of euphoria and a general state of well being.”
Euphoria? Jane? After what she called a “gruesome” workout? No way. But wait. After her shower, she did flash a silly euphoric grin at me as she replanted herself on the sofa and savaged a supersized bag of Cheetos--baked, of course.
IFs often lead frustrating lives.
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