Exercise Alternatives

I hate running. With a passion. HATE it. Some (crazy) people have told me that one can become addicted to running, that all of the sudden one day you get a rush of endorphins and from then on you must run in order to get your "fix." Obviously I never kept with it long enough to to experience this miraculous event. My endorphins seem to favor doughnuts and chips. I mention running and they run screaming to the nearest synapse where they can cower in fear and refuse to come out until I buy them a make up doughnut. With extra sprinkles of course. I myself find the sprinkles fairly immature, but something about them pleases the dorphies.

I was taking stock the other night as I sat dumping the rubble and dust from a bag of barbecue chips down my gullet. I came to a not so startling long overdue realization. I hate exercise. In all its forms. I have not found one single activity that I can do and enjoy consistently. Allow me to illustrate for you all of the forms of exercise I have attempted to be consistent with over the years

Calf raises -Age 12-My dad has the world's most perfect calves. None of his children were fortunate enough to inherit these. Instead, my leg is roughly chicken leg shaped. Rounded at the thigh, boney and ridiculous at the calf. As I bemoaned this fact to my dad at the age of 12, he suggested that I try to build up my calves via calf raises. I started doing as many as I could after being dropped off at middle school by the bus every morning. No noticeable difference, other than strange looks and whispers from my fellow junior highers. In fact, my calves lost weight, making them even more scrawny than before. Fail.


Beef jerky can filled with rocks (no, I'm not kidding) - Age 12 - After my brilliant plan to enlarge my calves didn't work, I then decided that perhaps I could make everything more proportional by slimming my thighs. Having no access to a home gym or any of the handy exercise tapes at the time, I hatched a what I thought to be a visionary plan to create weights by filling a beef jerky can with rocks from our alley. I would then sit on the end of my bed, toes pointed ceilingward, and balance the can of rocks on my ankles while straightening my legs. Well, I think I have addressed the topic of my coordination thoroughly enough that any of you reading can guess how this went. Bruised foot, rocks on floor, shapeless thighs remained.

Step up platform - Age 14 -
Overly ambitious and allowance money to burn, I purchased a large turquoise rectangular chunk of Styrofoam that Walmart had branded the "Step it Up," along with its accompanying tape, complete with over caffeinated spandex clad bouncy instructor. During the first workout I managed to trip on said Step it Up, loose my balance, and fall on top of my guinea pig cage. Bruises, shame, pissed off guinea pig, but alas, no increase in fitness level.

Tai Bo - Age 21 - This one I actually kept at for a solid month on the STBN diet. If you don't know what that is, go Google. Then I went on a trip and remembered what naught food looked like. Consequently, it looked significantly more appealing than Billy Blanks encased in spandex. If I'm EVER looking at something wrapped that tight, it better be a sausage. Bratwurst, preferably. Or Cheddarwurst *drools. Yes, well, anyway. They didn't work.

Gym membership #1 w/ personal trainer and eating program - Age 22 -Total Fitness - My first experience with a personal trainer. He made me bench press things. He drew up an eating plan for me. It repeated the same three meals every day. "You don't mind repetitive meals do you? I know I don't" he said, neck veins bulging. I kicked him in the shin and ran away.

Pilates series- Age 23 - Literally, I ordered it, and ten minutes later was eating my "I better get all my snacking in before the DVDs arrive and I have to get serious" bag of Cheetos, when decided I didn't really need to be that flexible. And Mari Windsor did have a slightly crazed look about her. And the chick in the demonstration had a funky toe. Probably pilates wasn't for me, I decided licking the away the orange Cheeto dust. DVDs arrive, find a home on the shelf, gather dust.

Gym membership #2 w/o personal trainer/w/Tanning Pass and Special K diet - Age 23 - Okay, so the pilates didn't work out. When the flier arrived for a $9.95 gym membership I waddled in and signed up, this time refusing the person trainer. No offense Brock. I did however sign up for the tanning pass, thinking that perhaps bronzing my lard would somehow motivate me to actually lose some. Simultaneously I decided I would give the Special K diet a try. You know, the one where you eat nothing but cardboard flakes for breakfast and lunch and by dinner time you crap out a box? Anyhoo - long story short - tanning proved to redden rather than bronze the fat, making it extraordinarily difficult to sit on any exercise machine. Instead I consoled myself by wolfing a tub of Godiva Raspberry chocolate truffle ice cream. Needless to say, I didn't go back. And also forgot to cancel the membership. In fact, I think I'm still being charged for it.

Power 90 - Age 24 - This was by far the most successful. And low and behold I actually stuck with it 90 days and lost 30 some odd pounds. But then I remembered food. And I like food. And I ate food. And got fat. Tony Horton and his fitness minions still live in my DVD case next to the pilates DVDs. I'm waiting for he and Mari Windsor to breed a super-race from my media cabinet any time now.

Gym membership #3 - Age 27 - This would be the ill fated on campus gym where I currently work. Where all the dudes go to grunt and sweat over their lunch break. The gym membership I am still paying for. At the gym I have not been to since Marchish. Somehow wandering downstairs for a super duper triple chocolate chunk cookie has been so much more satisfying.

And yet, somehow, I have managed to lose weight since the beginning of the year and am back in my Power 90 clothes. *Shrugs.

This settles it. I will not run again. Unless someone is chasing me with a gun. Or a knife. Or better yet, a gun and a knife. Moreover, no running for Cyndi unless she is being chased with several really big guns and really big knives.



-Cyndi