Sunday, May 24, 2009
My husband is eight years older than I am. I have always counted on this age discrepancy as being the reason why I don't exercise. Women live, on average, 7 years longer than men, so I figured I have a gap of about fifteen years to bridge so that I am not a widow. Smoking would probably make me cough, so I figured a lot of Diet Mountain Dew and a completely sedentary existence would guarantee that Dean would still be holding my arm in my dotage. My plan has gone awry. In the last few months, Dean has gone fitness crazy on me and now I am looking at an early death and there Dean will be, all spry and muscle-bound. He even refuses nachos.
His new physique is credited to a program called P90-X. It is a series of 12 DVDs that make you do all kinds of horrific activities that involve a lot of heavy breathing and grunty sweaty pull-ups and such. I tried to do a few of them with Dean, but seriously, fifteen minutes into it my quadriceps were all wobbly and he informed me that we had just completed the warm up. At that point, I retired to the couch with a box of Wheat Thins and watched him heaving himself to and fro for the next hour.
I know you're supposed to have more energy when you exercise, but how can you start to exercise unless you have more energy? Riddle me that.