On exercise

Fuel: Mud House Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc. One of my current favourites: gloriously fresh and curranty. Nectar of the goddesses, nay, nectar for the goddesses.

 

One of the oft-repeated and uncontested truths of our time is that we all like exercising and that people who say they don’t, simply haven’t tried enough. You know what they say: you just have to find your own sport, the one you enjoy, and then you too can become a sporty, sweaty person who is ever so happy and healthy! Maybe you’re a solitary type! Maybe you enjoy team sports! Maybe dancing is for you! Just keep looking, you will sooo enjoy exercising when you find the one! Yeah baby!

 

What a load of tosh. The types of exercise I have tried in my life include but are not limited to: jogging, cross-country skiing, downhill skiing, badminton, zumba, long jump, various forms of aerobics under fancy names and to various kinds of music, the gym, The Firm, high jump, latino dancing, ashtanga yoga, the exercise ball, sprint, circuit training, pilates, step, skating, cycling, and swimming. See? I have tried. I have tested the theory. I feel fairly certain I have covered most general types of exercise, from the simple to the involved, from the straightforward to the artsy. I fucking hated it all. I could stand some of the forms of exercise for about three times (I blame novelty), after which I fucking hated them.

 

Look: all exercise involves sweating, being out of breath and experiencing discomfort. I DO NOT enjoy sweating and being out of breath and uncomfortable, no matter how this state of affairs comes to be*. I enjoy sitting and reading.

 

At this point the happy sweaty person will pull out the next weapon: but you get such a high when you’ve exercised! It’s so wonderful, what a feeling! You’ll be hooked! Yeah baby!

 

I have no idea what you’re talking about. The only high I’ve ever experienced after exercising comes from the knowledge that I don’t have to do it again for at least 24 hours, likely 48. Now that’s joy, right there. The problem, if you want to call it that, is that if I never exercise, I can experience this high all the time.

 

The simple truth of the matter is this: you exercise fanatics are no more the norm than I am. So why don’t you stop harping on that I, in fact and quite unbeknownst to myself, do enjoy exercising, and I will refrain from telling you, with no restraint and in colourful detail, that you are all a bunch of masochistic freaks. Ok? Ok.

 

*And because someone who thinks s/he is very clever is planning to write a comment about sex right about now, I would like to point out and emphasise the word “uncomfortable”.

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