Fat, weak and out of shape

I found out today something I've wondered for ages.  The quandry was this:

Why, oh why, do some people hate working out and not do it?  (Excused are those who do manual labor daily, of course.  I only wonder at this for the sedentary suburbanites and/or urbanites.  I suppose some people who live in rural areas may be sedentary, and if so, fine, they can lump in, too.  Heck, throw the whole world in.)

I discovered the answer today.  Perhaps it is not shocking to you.  Perhaps you already know.  Perhaps it was something you hope the government will not spend $4.5 billion dollars to find out.  (I am among those in the latter category.)

The answer is shockingly simple.

I surmise the reason people hate working out and don't do it is threefold - it is because they are fat, weak and/or totally out of shape.  Don't be offended.  Let me tell you why not - I just found this out because today I found out that I am this pathetic person.  

I have been forced to live a very sedentary (one step up above bedrest) life for the last five months or so.  My exercise included difficult things like turning the pages of books, walking from the couch to the bathroom to the kitchen table and back to the couch, and lifting my tea cup from the table up to my mouth.  At first I thought I might poke my eyes out with a wombat at the torture of it, but I decided to make the best of it (studying grammar, reading more intensely, researching crazy topics, etc.) and the deep disturbance left me and I began to accept it as what must be.

But now I've gotten the green light to pick back up again and go back to life as usual.  Mostly.  So today I began what would have been a day in the regular life of Ms. Daisy back before near-bedrest set in.  This means that yours truly was up with the chirping birds at 5:00, off to the the pool to swim for an hour with my dear friends and fellow masters swimmers.

I love swimming.  I mean, LOVE.  And thankfully I swim with some absolutely fantastic swimmers.  Several of them have their names plastered on university natatoriums across the country.  We've even had the rare and lovely pleasure of swimming with Sheila Taormina, the olympic swimmer and olympic triathlete/pentathlete.  These people are beasts in the pool.  I am not them, but I happily trail behind my friends the sharks, chasing them down the lanes in good guppy-fashion.  

They have inspired and challenged me to kick it up a notch (or fifty) and before I had to sit on the couch for five months, I was swimming like I was my old high school swim capitan self.  Last year I participated in a fun (husband's translation: insane) swim that was a 5k through a chain of lakes.  I may have even lucked out and won first place for my age division.  I say this not to boast of my fabulous accomplishments, I am telling you this so you have an understanding of my mindset and to show you how pathetic I've become.

I used to run 5 miles three times a week (interspersed with the swimming on the other 3 days a week) and play volleyball once a week in a league.

So it was through these eyes that I looked at the participants on the show The Biggest Loser and said, "Why don't they just like run a marathon or something?  Or maybe they could swim a 10k and just get it over with!  Or maybe they should sign up for those cross-state bike races.  I don't get it."  (I said this while doing pull ups on the kitchen pull up bar...of course.)

How.  Ev.  Er.

Sitting on the couch for five months KIND OF CHANGES THINGS.  (This capitalized part should be read loudly and dramatically, in case you were wondering.)

So my brain was this brain who went with my newly pathetic body off to the pool.  Let me just tell you, they weren't getting along.  I swam three laps - THREE LAPS - and my arms started to feel it.  My previous self would have many days of not feeling anything at all after swimming the full workout for an hour.  So it was my in-shape brain who started yelling at my arms.  "What are you doing? What on earth is wrong with you??" The arms whimpered something pathetic, "We're tiiiired.  Waah."

The brain went back at it again, "Well I don't care, GO FASTER."  
Arms:  We caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan't.  Waaah.
Brain:  Do you even see your 50 split time?  You are seriously like the most wussy swimmer anyone could imagine right now.
Arms: Go night-night.  Tiiiiiiiiiiiired.  Owie.

Yeah.  Good news is there's nowhere to go but up?  

I got home and the hubby asked how it was.  After I told him, he said, "Now you know how I feel about swimming!"  He had this gleeful look in his eye, perhaps from him remembering how I smirked and guffawed when after I explained the warm up to him, he said he wouldn't be interested in swimming with me.  Ever.

Yes, well.

All I can say is that I'm thankful that my brain is stronger than my arms.  

And now, for a quick nap on the couch...

Peace, love and I just can't wait for my first 5 mile run,
Ms. Daisy