Wednesday, June 26, 2013

The paradox of exercise

Went walking around the golf course with the Mr this morning. Just three holes, mind you. That's about all I can handle.

And about all the bubs could handle too. She was getting restless by then, so while Mr kept playing I walked home.

It only took 10 minutes, but the bubs screamed the whole way. So instead of going by the road, I decided to take the short cut which is straight up the slope over the empty blocks that back on to ours. We'd done it before. The difference however was, one, last time Mr was pushing the pram, and two, that was before we had so much rain and the grass was not as long...

In short, lugging the pram containing a screaming baby up the hill through shin deep grass and sour sobs was the toughest work out I've done in a looong time.

Bubs was fine as soon as I got her out of the pram. The pram stayed in our back garden while I carried her up the steps to our back verandah. And that's where I collapsed into a chair to recover enough to get up the rest of the slope to our front door, the only way I could get in.

And as I sat there dying and seething that I'd even agreed to go walking around the golf course, I decided that was tge worst thing I'd ever done and I would never do it again...

Not happy...

But then, the funny thing about exercise is, that after you recover and that feeling of intense hatred for the strenuous activity you just did and the pain you endured... Once the feeling that you're dying fades, you discover you've never felt so alive.

Those exercise endorphins work so much better than eating a piece of chocolate. (It's just not as easy as eating a piece of chocolate to get there!)

I guess that's the lesson in life, isn't it. You can take the easy way for instant gratification and short lived pleasure, but it's fleeting and too often leaves us feeling dissatisfied (like eating chocolate). Or we can push through the hard stuff, do things the long way but the right way, and gain the real rewards and lasting benefits (like climbing a hill).

And like my favourite Pinterest quite recently says, 'A baby is a reason, not an excuse.' I don't want her to have to take care of me later, because I didn't take care of me now.

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