Endorphins for the endomorph

Note to my future selves: if ever I want to skip my mandatory exercise, don’t do it! Within 20 minutes of the walk I don’t want to take, particularly if I spent the afternoon riding the white horse of milky espresso drinks trying to catch that elusive happy buzz, I feel amazing! It might be a brief manic episode, or the joy of lovely outdoor oxygen, but I have to just put on those damned shoes and go.

Note to my past self: it’s true that I was and am a sloth, but so many problems would have been tackled if I would have made exercise a regular habit when I was much younger. All those philosophy and history tomes I didn’t read, all those papers that could have been started (and thoroughly bullshitted) with a few good walks to brace myself with nerve and energy. (Then again, maybe my knees already would be shot from all the euphoric running I later took up.)

This weekend we had family visiting, which always means running from one meal to another, with brief coffee, newspaper, and nap breaks (for the youngest and oldest family members). That’s what living far from our natal families is like — whenever a bunch of us get together, we turn the weekend into an elongated Thanksgiving. During one hiatus from eating and drinking, and after an epic procrastination session (during which I joined Twitter and stared, paralyzed, at the junk on my desk), I finally took an hourlong walk around the neighborhood. By the halfway mark, I felt less like someone who won’t fit into my pants next week and hasn’t written much yet this summer. Joie de vivre began to sink in, and I could think clearly again.

The nutty plan formulated during my quickie manic episode: Tomorrow I’m running a 10K (“http://www.palisades10k.com/home.htm”>). It’s my favorite Independence Day thing to do. In the past when I’ve run the morning 10K, I’ve thought of it as carte blanche to have a few beers and hot dogs (and potato chips, and brownies) at Fourth of July parties later in the day. But I coming to consider it more of a small, personal act of freedom. I come from a sedentary family, and I’ve spent too much of my life trying to lose weight — mainly because it’s taken me decades to take seriously the adage that weight maintenance is 80% What You Put In Your Mouth and 20% Everything Else. About a decade ago, exercise became something I needed as much for the endorphins as for the weight loss. I’m never going to be a marathon runner, or probably even a half-marathoner. (A part of me measures my time just to morbidly keep track of my yearly decay. Because I’m dark like that.) But a 10K on Independence Day is just what I need to metaphorically zero out the scales and rededicate myself to healthy living.

The rest of the week: I’m writing and taking the day off from hard exercise. And then I’m cleaning out the office and finishing a book draft by the end of the month. Because it’s about time, and anything feels possible when you get this much oxygen in your lungs.