Monday, May 5, 2008

My Great Whites and Me

You may have figured out by now that I'm not what you would call a fitness buff.

I mean, I don't have anything against fitness. At times I've even been fit. But, particularly since I started blogging, I've been spending A LOT of time on the sofa. I mean, there's a dent over on my side.

Which is why the "Couch to 5K" running program I started this very evening purports to be designed for the likes of me. Supposedly, if only I do exactly what the coach tells me, in seven weeks I'll be able to run three miles without either stopping or dying. I'll be able to finish a 5k race. I'll experience enormous feelings of pride and personal satisfaction. "One Shining Moment" will play wherever I go.

The problem is that what the coach expects me and the other 50 people in the program to do is run. Often. As in, this week I have to run FOUR. MORE. TIMES.

Which means that four more times, I have to look at my thighs. The thought makes me queasy.

My thighs came out into the light this evening for the first time since summer. Like two groundhogs on February 2, they quickly tried to dive back into some jeans. But I wouldn't let them. I forced them to get in the car and drive to the meeting site, and then to run with all the other, less white, less trembly, less conspicuous thighs. Poor things -- I tried to pretend I didn't know them, and I think they picked up on it.

My thighs have promised me that if I apply self-tanner to them several more times between now and the next group run, they will stay in the program. I in turn have promised them that if they will stay with it, maybe they won't be quite so trembly. Maybe they will start to have fun.

They called me a big fat liar.

My butt is probably not so happy about being showcased in a pair of shorts, either. But at least it's behind me, and I can't hear it when it whines.


MommyTime said...

Dear Betsy's Thighs,

We, too, are being forced against our will into exertions we think are excessive. We have been running 1.5 miles and then jumping onto a bicycle for an additional 5 miles. Personally we think this stinks, but we apparently are not the brains of this operation. The brains of the operation, in fact, thinks that we do not do this often enough. WE say "sporadically" is plenty often. The brains is aiming for three times a week (and failing miserably at that, thanks to us!).

We request backup ammunition in the form of fessing up: how far are you forced to run? Perhaps we can convince the brains to give us more of a break.

Yours in jiggly companionate misery,

MommyTime's Thighs

HRH said...

I love that the butt is behind and you can't see it.

You can do it despite all your body parts complaining!