Making Space

I'm not into exercising. It's just never really been my thing. I always have good intentions to work out, but just can't stick with it. I get bored and my attention span decreases to the point of being nonexistent.

About a year ago, Ben and I had joined the gym for a short lived six months.  We dropped our membership as soon as we realized that not only did we have to change our eating habits to achieve the bodies we dreamed of, but that we also had to exercise every day.  Exercise every day in a hot and smelly gym with the same equipment and people?  No way.

But, now spring is here and skirts and swimsuits will replace sweaters and pants. I feel that I should once again start to exercise, make myself more presentable to the public. This time, though, I've decided to work out at home instead of joining a gym.  That way, I can leave my PJs on and I only have to roll off the couch to get started.

Our apartment doesn't really lend itself to lots of jumping and moving, but I will make it work.  I will just push the couch a few inches, wedge a chair in the corner, roll up the rug, close the blinds, and crack open the window to get some cool air. Of course, I can only open the window about 5 inches because any more than that would give the apartments dwellers and the mechanics at the car garage across the street an eyeful of an uncoordinated and wimpy blonde. Nobody wants, or needs, to see that.

Then, to complete my workout setup, I will hook three different cords from the computer to the TV and stereo (the DVD player broke a few months ago).  I can't forget to lock the apartment door.  Again, no one needs to walk in and see me blundering around the room with a side ponytail in a mismatched outfit. That. Would. Be. Bad.

So... after writing this, I realize how much work it is to just work out in our apartment. Perhaps, I'll just go back to counting my walk to and from the subway as exercise.  Yup, that sounds like a good idea.