I was at Sports Authority this morning and almost ran my face right into the doors because they didn't automatically open for me. I took a step back, waiting for it register my body on the sensor pads, then I noticed the handles.
Ahhhh, I was supposed to use my hands to open the doors. I thought, "Oh how cute, it forces people to excercise in order to enter. That's cool."
Then it occurred to me that if I think opening a fucking door is excercise, then I'm not getting enough of it.
I'm not sure when this happened. I used to register for 5k's all the time and come in last. I ran a couple of half marathons and limped to the finish. I was reprimanded in spin class for not having my "ass out of the saddle." I've been to yoga and watched all the contortionists do their thing while I struggled to touch a toe.
See, the effort is there, I simply suck at it. This is why walking the dog has become my excercise routine. I can't fail at it. We go around the block, he poops, I pick it up. It's a win-win.
Maybe it's maturity. I don't need to be wheezing, begging for mercy, or rubbing a sore knee, in order to feel good. I've released that desire to race people, to compete with them.
Besides, I've already won. I have a sweet husband who holds my hand on walks and two awesome girls that think every day is the best day ever. I'm living my dream of writing a book. I have a great little house with a dead tree in the front yard. I have Oreos in the cupboard and I'm going to eat 3 of them because that is the serving size.
So instead of hauling ass and putting my body through the shredder, maybe I'm happy with the extra 10 lbs.
Instead of training and racing, I simply have a smile of content on my face as I swing my dog's bag of shit back and forth. It's all good.