I can barely move. Seriously. Two days ago I did an exercise video and now I'm so stiff and sore that it hurts to get up.
Recently I decided to beef up my fitness regime. I saw a picture in the newspaper of Michelle Obama doing push-ups with Archbishop Desmond Tutu. Real push-ups--not the "girly" ones on the knees. Looking at them made me wonder how many push-ups I could do. The answer?
Zero. Not a one. It hurt my wrist just getting into the starting plank position.
Now I'm 5'5'' and weigh 124 so you wouldn't call me fat. And I do walk the dog about three miles every day. But zero push-ups? I used to equate fitness with a part of who I am. I've done a marathon! Triathlons! A 500 mile bike ride! How did I fall so far that a 50 minute fitness video leaves me incapacitated? I am only 40. I'm too young to feel old. (For the record, Tutu will be 80 this year and he's still doing push-ups!)
Chances are slim that Michelle Obama will ever challenge me to a push-up contest. So why do I care if I'm feeling out of shape? Mainly, for energy. When I feel fit, I've got more of it. And sanity. Exercise improves my mood.
Today is July 4th. A National holiday seems a funny day for a new resolution. Many people will be eating barbeque and drinking beer all day. Well, I'm going to exercise and have a salad for lunch. As America celebrates its independence as a Nation, I will celebrate my independence from lethargy, sluggishness and inactivity. Michelle Obama, watch out!
Now, let's see if I can get up out of this chair. Oof.