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Sunday, May 18, 2008

How long do we avoid?

Yes, I've been playing Packrat again. Still. And I have everything vaulted that's available to be vaulted and I'm not so patiently waiting for the rest.

But that's not what I'm blogging about.

This morning, I was forced to face the reality that I am still not exercising enough.

Have you ever taken a sausage out of its casing, then tried to stuff it back in? Well, that's what I felt like today, putting on my capris for the first time this season. And I thought, they fit last year, they're GONNA fit this year.

Now, I have a lower tolerance for tight clothing, so I do tend to wear things baggy. But let me tell you... wearing those pants nearly killed me. I don't know how the people I see walking around in their tight pants do it, because I honestly thought I was going to die. I couldn't breathe. My parts were smooshed into parts they shouldn't have been smooshed into, and everything was rearranged to fit into places I'm not sure God meant for them to be.

Fashion is just not my thing.

I realize now that I'm faced with a choice. Spend the rest of the summer wearing sweats and old soccer shorts or finally break down and get back in shape. Considering I did agree to climb a 14,000 foot mountain this summer, I'm guessing it's going to be the one I'm avoiding. Wait. I'm avoiding both things, because I also hate wearing sweats. But you see where I'm going with this, right?

Some of you dear people who know and love me are saying, but Danica, you look great. You're fine just as you are. While I agree with you in theory, you did not have to wear those pants today. And no, they didn't shrink in the wash. Unless it happened to my entire summer wardrobe.

I have to ask myself, though, why does it take a crisis, like realizing none of your summer pants fit, to finally accept that you need to be doing what you already knew you should be doing, but kept putting off? The truth is, I hate exercise. I stink at pretty much every sport. Have you seen the TV shows that have the stereotypical kid that's always the last to be picked? They patterned the kid off of me. How I married a former pro soccer player, I have no idea. Further proof that God has a sense of humor.

Do you see all the excuses I continue to make? I could go on about the lack of time, lack of energy, blah blah blah. But in the end, it brings me no closer to climbing that mountain or fitting into my pants. So this week, I'm going to go out, walk around the block, catch up on my yoga show, and take that tiny step out of avoidance and into victory?

Anyone want to join me?

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