My last job was physically demanding.
I spent hours lifting 50 plus pounds of product and carrying it around. While
most would consider working like that just plain awful, it did benefit me in
one major way. I never had to worry about my weight. For the most part, I stayed
the same comfortable weight. My arms and legs became beautifully toned and I
could sit in an ice cream parlor and consume a triple banana boat sundae with
ten gallons of chocolate poured all over it and not feel guilty. Not one bit. I
use to hang out at work and eat an entire bag of M&Ms and then go work it
off by the end of the day.
The sad reality is without this job I will puff up like Violet in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory; I’ll probably even turn blue from eating ridiculous amounts of blue slushies. Why must they be filled with such glorious amounts of sugar? Or how about the crazy amount of iced coffee I consume? Nutella? Chocolate? Fried everything? So I had to make a choice. Give up eating junk food and eat only nice healthy things. Or start exercising.
So I got off my lazy bum and dug out my Dad’s mountain bike out of the garage. After cautiously poking at it with a stick, then hitting it with said stick to check for demonic spiders, I took it out for a ride.
The first day was lovely. The sun shone on my pasty white skin. The neighbors waved cheerily at me. I felt so healthy on my bicycle and made a three mile loop. I felt so proud myself. Look at me, I thought, I may not have a job but I am going to be so pretty and thin! After my bike ride I did some job hunting, Skyped with boyfriend, and read my book. Still feeling super healthy I went back out and walked/jogged the 3 mile loop.
This was a mistake. The first mile went swimmingly; sun, neighbors, healthy, yada yada yada. The second mile, I began to feel it, but pressed on like a trooper, still all motivated. The three mile, that’s where things all went wrong. By now, it’s 5:30 in the afternoon, and I’m on the main street of my neighborhood. Cars are whizzing past me, barely avoiding me. There is no sidewalk, not even a place beside the road for me to go. I’m sweaty, tired, and the bugs are out. Still I make it home in one peace, and hey, look at that I’m feeling healthy and skinny. I go to bed all proud of myself.
Now those of you who have ever attempted to exercise before know what’s coming next. My health teacher in high school once tried to explain this phenomenon of lactic acid and blah blah, but I was more interested in watching Johnny Football in the next row. Now I’m wishing I had paid attention, maybe I would know how to make this pain stop. I woke up aching everywhere, and laid pathetically in bed until Boyfriend messaged me and motivated me into moving. I crawled pathetically downstairs, through the house, and out to the garage. I pulled out the bike and pulled myself up… and then I felt it.
I mentioned before how I borrowed my DAD’S bike. Well, the bike is made for males which means the bike seat is fitted for males. I am not a male. Let me tell you uncomfortable a male’s bike seat is on a female. I have never been in such pain. Still. I had to go on. At this point, it didn’t hurt too badly, and what, it’s only three miles. I did it no problem yesterday.
Except today… today the sun didn’t feel so nice on my skin, and it was muggy. I couldn’t really breathe. Was that hill there yesterday? Dear god, this road is never going to end.
Course the real test came when the spider crawled up my arm. I had neglected to beat my bike with a stick, now there was a Spawn of Satan on my arm. Before I knew it I was swerving all over the road, batting at my arm with my other hand and screaming, right in front of my pastor’s house. Hopefully he’ll never guess it was me because me riding a bike is as likely as Augustus Gloop taking a walk.
I did indeed manage to make it home in one piece. I threw the bike into the garage and stormed into my house and took comfort in the internet. I did not go out for a walk/jog, I felt that the world of exercise had betrayed me. I did not even job hunt, I felt like the world was against me in that moment. I felt all the angst in the world and proceed to play level after level of Candy Crush. I resigned myself to eating only healthy foods and turning into some sort of calorie counter to avoid the horrors that exercise brings.
Then mom came home with monkey bread.
I guess tomorrow I have to go on a bike ride.
The sad reality is without this job I will puff up like Violet in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory; I’ll probably even turn blue from eating ridiculous amounts of blue slushies. Why must they be filled with such glorious amounts of sugar? Or how about the crazy amount of iced coffee I consume? Nutella? Chocolate? Fried everything? So I had to make a choice. Give up eating junk food and eat only nice healthy things. Or start exercising.
So I got off my lazy bum and dug out my Dad’s mountain bike out of the garage. After cautiously poking at it with a stick, then hitting it with said stick to check for demonic spiders, I took it out for a ride.
The first day was lovely. The sun shone on my pasty white skin. The neighbors waved cheerily at me. I felt so healthy on my bicycle and made a three mile loop. I felt so proud myself. Look at me, I thought, I may not have a job but I am going to be so pretty and thin! After my bike ride I did some job hunting, Skyped with boyfriend, and read my book. Still feeling super healthy I went back out and walked/jogged the 3 mile loop.
This was a mistake. The first mile went swimmingly; sun, neighbors, healthy, yada yada yada. The second mile, I began to feel it, but pressed on like a trooper, still all motivated. The three mile, that’s where things all went wrong. By now, it’s 5:30 in the afternoon, and I’m on the main street of my neighborhood. Cars are whizzing past me, barely avoiding me. There is no sidewalk, not even a place beside the road for me to go. I’m sweaty, tired, and the bugs are out. Still I make it home in one peace, and hey, look at that I’m feeling healthy and skinny. I go to bed all proud of myself.
Now those of you who have ever attempted to exercise before know what’s coming next. My health teacher in high school once tried to explain this phenomenon of lactic acid and blah blah, but I was more interested in watching Johnny Football in the next row. Now I’m wishing I had paid attention, maybe I would know how to make this pain stop. I woke up aching everywhere, and laid pathetically in bed until Boyfriend messaged me and motivated me into moving. I crawled pathetically downstairs, through the house, and out to the garage. I pulled out the bike and pulled myself up… and then I felt it.
I mentioned before how I borrowed my DAD’S bike. Well, the bike is made for males which means the bike seat is fitted for males. I am not a male. Let me tell you uncomfortable a male’s bike seat is on a female. I have never been in such pain. Still. I had to go on. At this point, it didn’t hurt too badly, and what, it’s only three miles. I did it no problem yesterday.
Except today… today the sun didn’t feel so nice on my skin, and it was muggy. I couldn’t really breathe. Was that hill there yesterday? Dear god, this road is never going to end.
Course the real test came when the spider crawled up my arm. I had neglected to beat my bike with a stick, now there was a Spawn of Satan on my arm. Before I knew it I was swerving all over the road, batting at my arm with my other hand and screaming, right in front of my pastor’s house. Hopefully he’ll never guess it was me because me riding a bike is as likely as Augustus Gloop taking a walk.
I did indeed manage to make it home in one piece. I threw the bike into the garage and stormed into my house and took comfort in the internet. I did not go out for a walk/jog, I felt that the world of exercise had betrayed me. I did not even job hunt, I felt like the world was against me in that moment. I felt all the angst in the world and proceed to play level after level of Candy Crush. I resigned myself to eating only healthy foods and turning into some sort of calorie counter to avoid the horrors that exercise brings.
Then mom came home with monkey bread.
I guess tomorrow I have to go on a bike ride.
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