I am not an exercise nut. I am not one of those people who finds it comforting to go outside and run around and sweat. When I was a kid, I loved riding my bike and playing softball, but somehow, those activities grew less attractive as I grew older. Until I was about 39, I was able to do just fine without stretching my body parts. But then, one day, I woke up 10 pounds heavier. I know that sounds like an exaggeration, but it isn't. One day, I woke up 10 pounds heavier.
Why did that happen? All of a sudden, the once-a-week cookie at Court was too much. The occasional dinner roll with no butter was verboten. And a piece of pie? Forget about it. Eating - and therefore life - became a pain.
So I started trying to find some exercise that I could fit into my routine as a lawyer with a toddler. Walking around the block every day a couple of times - really fast - helped. I measured my path, and it was just about a mile. I could do that in 20 minutes, so I was satisfied. And so was my body. I added that cookie back into my week, and I was able to fit comfortably into my clothes, which were a pretty big carrot for my progress. I had spent way too much on them to have to ditch them for larger sizes.
So for a couple of years, the daily block walking went just fine. And then it wasn't enough. So I got a treadmill, and upped the walking time to 30 minutes at 3.7 mph. That helped. And then it wasn't enough, either. So I added a yoga class twice a week. Nothing changed.
When Emily went to college, I decided that those extra pounds, brought on by eating too much, or maybe drinking that extra glass of wine, needed to go away. So I joined Weight Watchers and hired a personal trainer. I lost a pound a week, and I was hungry every day. Every Day.
Finally, I figured out that maybe I wasn't supposed to be really thin. Maybe it was all right to be a little chunky around the middle. Maybe I didn't need to wear really tight clothing. And just as I figured this out, fashion gave me a break. Leggings and tunics came back in style. While I had added a couple of inches around my waist, my legs still looked good; therefore, I could wear those skin-tight leggings that showed off the shape of my legs and could cover up the chunk with a long, loose tunic. I was in hog heaven. Well, maybe not heaven - maybe I just breathed a little more easily.
Now, I still wear leggings and tunics. I still walk on the treadmill most days - two miles. I take one yoga class twice a week and another once a week. And I still drink that extra glass of wine. For as I have discovered over the past couple of years, we don't know what will happen to us when we grow really old - assuming that we do. I want to try to enjoy what I have right now, and I'm not going to let a few extra pounds make me unhappy in a pretty good life.
The good news is that I have grown to like walking on the treadmill, and I enjoy my yoga classes. But generally, I would still rather read a book than get all out of breath and sweaty. I'm still me.
Why did that happen? All of a sudden, the once-a-week cookie at Court was too much. The occasional dinner roll with no butter was verboten. And a piece of pie? Forget about it. Eating - and therefore life - became a pain.
So I started trying to find some exercise that I could fit into my routine as a lawyer with a toddler. Walking around the block every day a couple of times - really fast - helped. I measured my path, and it was just about a mile. I could do that in 20 minutes, so I was satisfied. And so was my body. I added that cookie back into my week, and I was able to fit comfortably into my clothes, which were a pretty big carrot for my progress. I had spent way too much on them to have to ditch them for larger sizes.
So for a couple of years, the daily block walking went just fine. And then it wasn't enough. So I got a treadmill, and upped the walking time to 30 minutes at 3.7 mph. That helped. And then it wasn't enough, either. So I added a yoga class twice a week. Nothing changed.
When Emily went to college, I decided that those extra pounds, brought on by eating too much, or maybe drinking that extra glass of wine, needed to go away. So I joined Weight Watchers and hired a personal trainer. I lost a pound a week, and I was hungry every day. Every Day.
Finally, I figured out that maybe I wasn't supposed to be really thin. Maybe it was all right to be a little chunky around the middle. Maybe I didn't need to wear really tight clothing. And just as I figured this out, fashion gave me a break. Leggings and tunics came back in style. While I had added a couple of inches around my waist, my legs still looked good; therefore, I could wear those skin-tight leggings that showed off the shape of my legs and could cover up the chunk with a long, loose tunic. I was in hog heaven. Well, maybe not heaven - maybe I just breathed a little more easily.
Now, I still wear leggings and tunics. I still walk on the treadmill most days - two miles. I take one yoga class twice a week and another once a week. And I still drink that extra glass of wine. For as I have discovered over the past couple of years, we don't know what will happen to us when we grow really old - assuming that we do. I want to try to enjoy what I have right now, and I'm not going to let a few extra pounds make me unhappy in a pretty good life.
The good news is that I have grown to like walking on the treadmill, and I enjoy my yoga classes. But generally, I would still rather read a book than get all out of breath and sweaty. I'm still me.
