oh, the horrors of life

*read with my sarcasm in mind. 

i remember my first night here in germany.  i was exhausted because of the time difference, i found myself sitting in a church praying for a few minutes, and then i went out for a walk.  person after person passed me jogging or on a bike.  the amount of spandex i saw that evening was absolutely incredible.  and all i could think was, “these people are really into exercise.”

now maybe i’m not used to this because i live in small town America or maybe i’m not used to this because most Americans don’t function like this, but as i watched all these people nordic-walking, running, and biking, i felt perfectly comfortable being what i thought was the average american girl who is out of shape and has never been involved in sports in her life.

unfortunately, my view on all this was very uneducated and i quickly found that out.  i wasn’t here at school a week before i realized that almost everyone had been on some sort of sports team before and they go running, do aerobics, or work out in our weight room once a day.  and i suddenly realized that i was in the minority of eighteen-year-old american girls who don’t work out and have never been involved in sports. 

they would invite me to go with them as they ran their regular 6K or did their average 200 crunches and 100 push-ups per day and i would smile and say, “oh thanks, i would, but i’ve got some stuff to do.”  a lie?  yes (Lord, forgive me).  it’s not like i don’t do anything.  i walk.  oh yes, i always walk forty-five minutes a day to an hour.  you would be amazed at how quickly my brain worked in order to tell myself that i was getting plenty of exercise just by walking a bit. 

day after day i was surrounded by this atmosphere of being healthy, of pushing your body further, and getting the full 35 sport points a week and eventually it did something to me.  maybe it was because i realized i’ve never sat more in my life until now or maybe everything mr.story said finally sunk in or maybe it was because everyday the button on my pants is getting harder to button — whatever it is, this week i started running.

now i’m a smart person and know that i probably don’t want to run when everyone from fishbach is out as well.  this town is small enough that there are only so many places to run and since i hardly like to walk through the school hall in my black stretch pants and t-shirt that show my rather lumpy out of shape figure, i didn’t think i’d want to suffer while being passed left and right by spankex-clad toned bodies.  so i chose the evening.  yes, it’s perfect — the sun is down, no one can really see and no one else is around.

until this evening.  as i started out on my very slow pace, i started to be the one passing people.  there were women in heeled boots and men in suits.  there were four girls and boys standing outside of our turkish restaurant hanging out who decided to cheer me along.  there was a traffic jam along the street and more people on the sidewalk than ever before.  i know it’s friday night, but that doesn’t usually make any difference here.  this town is usually dead — what happened to it?  maybe i was just self-conscience but i do think they were all looking at me and my saddle-bags.

and as i went along, huffing and puffing, running until my calves started cramping (a grand total of twelve minutes), i decided that i’d rather be in the minority of american girls who don’t exercise and have never been invovled in sports than undergo this humiliation.

4 thoughts on “oh, the horrors of life

  1. oh those saddle-bags! i feel your pain, my dear sister.

    and i wonder, what genetic pool can we blame for our lack of exercise and those horrid fat cells?!

  2. you make me smile 🙂

    i hope you are enjoying yourself over there so far away from the North Country. Just know that we aren’t forgetting about you, that girl, “louissa” comes up in a conversation at least once most days 🙂


  3. (tongue in cheek reading, please…)

    Aww, skip the spandex and go right for the lycra footless tights with leotards of black. Put on the beautiful music and get started. Exercise is not confined to running and sports! When you return in January we will send you armed with CD’s and dance shoes, ready to start your own private group exercise class! Now, that’s the way to keep in shape, not all this pounding the pavement!

    When I told Pam March that I needed to get back in shape from my injury, I mentioned that I wanted to be able to do plie’s again (that’s an accented e’ by the way, not an apostrophe) and run.

    “Oh, heavens, don’t go running! All that pounding is way too hard on your feet and joints!” I assured her that I didn’t mean running as a sport, simply as a means of moving more quickly from one place to another in every day life situations. She seemed to understand, although I doubt if she runs from place to place either — she is such a calm, purposed individual. Such implusiveness undoubtedly escapes her.

    Still, dancing is the best of all possible exercise regimens — stretching, aerobic, and focused. Good stuff, that dance stuff!

    Love you, Weese. “Don’t get down, get serious!” Time for the exercise routine to begin again! We surely don’t want all of those TH clothes to not fit anymore! 🙂

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