Couch potato alert! Couch potato alert!
Spring is here to stay and the weather is beautiful. It is not snowing, sleeting, or raining outside.
No more excuses.
I admit it.
I have a lot of excuses. I slip back into old habits. I don’t really like to exercise that much. But, then, there’s Fred.
Fred is an outdoor guy. He works in the garden, mows the lawn, waters the flowers, and rides his bike miles and miles.
Don’t misunderstand — I exercise, but it’s way down my priority list!
Books are crying to be read; old photos need to be sorted. The refrigerator crisper needs to be emptied and washed out. Toilets need brushed.
Fred interferes with my excuses.
He continually keeps after me to exercise. Then, he gives me that hinting “look.” No, it’s not sex he’s hinting about! (I just knew you would think that!)
I know exactly why he has that look.
I know it’s coming. ...
Him. “When are you going to fit in your exercise today?” (MY exercise?)
“Oh yes. I almost forgot. I’ll do it right after my nap.”
“How about right now? We’ll ride the bicycles into town and then stop at the track and walk some laps,” he whispers.
I am about as excited as a cat trying to get out of the bathtub.
I know when I am trapped. “I’ll get ready.”
Fred follows me to the closet. “Be sure and wear your walking shoes.”
Me: I am now on my knees looking for my comfortable walking shoes. I get flustered. “I don’t know where they are. Just go on without me!” (Nice try, huh?)
Him: “Look some more. And while you are at it, put on shorts instead of those slacks you are wearing. It’s warm out and you will be more comfortable. You need a light weight T-shirt too.”
Me: “My legs don’t sweat. I am fine in these pants. (Capris) Really. I’ll be fine.”
Him: “Don’t you have any shorts? I have some that I think will fit you.” (He opens his drawer and pulls out a pair of his Nike shorts.) “Here, take these of mine and put them on!”
Me: “Oh that’s OK. I am fine (ugliest pair of elastic waistband shorts ever!)”
I get dressed, discover the supportive laced shoes underneath some other shoes. I dig out socks that match and I don’t change into those shorts. I held out on that issue!
We proceed to the garage. Darned if my bike doesn’t have a flat rear tire. “Oh no!” (I act crushed!)
Him: “Let’s try to air it up.” We try but it won’t stay inflated.
“It probably has a puncture. Hand me the pliers with the yellow handle. We’ll use some ‘Never Leak.’”
Pretty soon we are on the garage floor on our knees. We spin the tire, turn the bike upside down, then take the valve stem out of the tire, put an insert in; squeeze in the “Never Leak.”
The “Never Leak” spurts out all over the tire, Fred’s hand, and the garage floor!
I grab a rag and wipe up the mess including Fred’s green hand.
Him. “We’ll need to buy a new tube for the tire. For now, let’s just go to the track.”
Me. “Good idea. Let’s do that!” I had hoped to forget the whole thing, but I act enthusiastic. Oh well. I’m ready now. The battle is half won.
Besides, Fred is still enthused. I grab my sunglasses. What a lot of paraphernalia!
We drive to the track. By now, I could have taken a nap, or cleaned out a shelf, or ... or ... Bite my tongue.
We get out, do a few stretches, and hit the track.
But, Fred was right.
I feel better.
I am almost proud of myself.
I’m pleased that I didn’t make excuses to not go.
No one is asking you or me to do a marathon.
Walk a block; a half mile, a mile.
Whatever you feel like doing is better than doing nothing.
Right? That’s what I tell myself, anyway.
Get up!! Get going! Shake a leg!
You can do it.
“A Woman’s View” is Judi Tabler’s reflection of her experiences and events. She is a wife, mother, writer, teacher, grandmother, and even a great grandmother. Contact Annie at firstname.lastname@example.org.