I love exercising.
Well, okay, I don’t love it. I like it. Except for the times when I’ve hated it.
While I was on the treadmill this morning I was thinking about the complexities of my relationship with exercise. Informal surveys make me think I’m definitely not the only one, so I thought I’d say what it’s been like for me, and throw it out to the Shameless folk.
I was not an athletic kid. Not that I didn’t like being physical, but I was definitely in the group that didn’t play sports on the side, and so was pretty fux0red when it came to gym class (why, why call it a class if there’s no instruction?).
I will forever remember my grade 4 teacher fondly for coming over in volleyball (one of my most feared activities), and showing me how to serve. It took 2 minutes, and it changed every volleyball class that followed. Because it wasn’t that I couldn’t. It was that I didn’t have the first clue how. It turned out that I actually had a pretty decent serve now that I knew what I was doing. I was still ass at every other position, but it was the first taste of enjoyment in a long dry spell of suck.
Fast forward past the rest of the not-so-sweet torment that was elementary school gym, through high school where I injured my back (permanently) doing some sort of flip over a pommel horse during our gymnastics component(?!). Again with no instruction. Who thought it was a good idea to make gymnastics part of a general amateur curriculum? “Okay, uneven bars, aaaaand… go!” ACK!
So I was 18 before I realized that I actually like exercise.
(more inside…)