I used to run mountain trails filled with adventure and thrill,
but now my stomach aches with donuts and cake,
and my diet is that only an
overweight boxing champion could take,
innumerable calories for a pot-belly pig of a woman.
To the youthful,
Sugar
is the craze, but now that I am heavy and laden,
and it weighs down more than my mind,
I cease to be a fair maiden,
yet still I consume serving after serving.
Relentless.
My stomach sang these hymns to me through its tantrum-filled rumbles as I contemplated whether I should endure a circuit at the gym or a round of treats at Krispy Kreme. The donuts won out in the end. Here I hibernated on my bed amidst a dozen pastries, when out of my glazed-induced coma appeared a mighty man. His appearance startled me. The man’s biceps were alarmingly similar in size to basketballs, and his calves were even more prominent. Not only that, but the man’s odor was a distinguishable mixture of protein shakes and the sweat of a million Olympic athletes. He carried an apple and a banana in his left hand and a 20-pound dumbbell in his right.
The man’s piercing glare switched incessantly between the box of donuts and me. With a voice like a personal trainer, he roared, “How did these sugary varmints find their way in here? They provide no comfort for the miseries of a lazy woman. If these donuts were infecting an ordinary individual, it would be a different story. This is a five-time cross-country state champion for goodness sakes!” In one swift motion, he cast the pastries into my bedside garbage can.
I was almost put to tears at the thought of losing my precious chocolate-sprinkled desserts. If it was not for the intimidating nature of this man, I would have lashed out in furious rage. Still, I wanted to know who this muscled monster thought he was trashing the one substance that was providing me with the energy I needed to make it through the day. He approached the television that was resting on my bedside table and pressed the power button with his sausage-like index finger. The television promptly turned on to an unfamiliar program and the motivational poet addressed me exclaiming:
The heaviness of weight
hides the abs.
Those calories you ate,
glazed and sprinkled,
hides it further.
A jelly-bellied woman
encountering a buffet
will stop in her tracks.
In the same manner,
your motivation
has no inclination
to proceed.
Discard your Netflix,
your pizza,
and your covers.
Let go of the donuts
and your body will
Recover.
He remained concentrated on the program, but as soon as the narrator ceased speaking, he flicked the television off and returned his focus to me. The mystery man demanded, “Wipe the sprinkles off your shirt and put on some tennis shoes! We need to whip you into shape!” After that proclamation, I instantly recognized him. It was none other than Sir Exercise himself. He had been with me all the way from little-league soccer to high school cross-country. It was now freshman year of college, and I had not seen his face in months.
I knew better than to ignore his commands, so I reluctantly rolled out of bed and dusted off a pair of ancient Asics running shoes. He pushed me out the door of my dorm out into the blinding sunlight.
I was terrified at the thought of what sort of arduous activity Sir Exercise might compel me to complete. He bellowed, “I know we have been separated for a while, so I am going to start you off with a little something I like to call walking.” I inquiringly pleaded, “Why do I have to walk when I can just drive my car around campus?”
Sir Exercise sighed, “I guess you have drifted farther than I had imagined. Let me tell you a little narrative.”
She who has seen into fitness’ secrets
now lies obese,
her body weighed down
by heavy meals
and no social skills.
With eyes to the screen,
she no longer sees
the grand benefits of walking.
She used to seek daily fitness goals,
and she knew that a ten-minute mile pace
is all that it takes
for wonderful health
and a reason
to feel satisfied about yourself.
Realizing the astounding similarities this tale had to my life, I uttered, “Alright. Alright. I am now beginning to understand your reasoning. Commence the walking.”
Sir Exercise and I trudged side-by-side in silence for half an hour. I occasionally eyeballed my stomach to see if it was shrinking yet. To my discouragement, it remained the same hefty size. We made an entire loop around campus, outlining as far as the football field back to Margaret Harris dorm. Boy, was I sweating. When we reached the dorm again, I was exceedingly close to coughing up a lung (or maybe it was a donut). I came to the sudden realization that I needed to start walking more in order to get back into decent physical shape.
Through deep breaths, I airily announced to Sir Exercise, “Good workout. I now fully comprehend the need for walking.” Before I could turn around to head back to my room to be reunited with my comfy bed and maybe fish those unlucky donuts out of the trash, Sir Exercise said, “Whoa now, it is not time to hang up your shoes yet. We are advancing to light jogging. That was only the warm up…” Everything he said after that was a blurred mist of absolute bewilderment. “The warm up? Jogging? I thought we were finished! Why is there a need for a warm up when the warm up is an exercise in itself?”
Sir Exercise exhaled, “You seem to have forgotten the key component of exercise. The warm up is crucial to successful physical activity. You are halfway to discovering the beauty of exercise again. But first, let me relay another tale to assist you in your understanding.”
On the athletes’ running track,
the coaches instruct the athletes
how to warm up before the physical test.
So one coach commands his player
to make the best of his rest.
Another directs his runner
to warm up his muscles
for the event.
Can you guess
which runner
won first place?
You would be right
if you said
the athlete who warmed up
was the one that came out ahead,
a trophy for one,
and a pulled hammy for the other.
Oh,
What a bummer.
I contemplated this notion along with Sir Exercise’s previous assessments, and every puzzle piece seemed to instantly find its place in the puzzle. I remembered. I remembered the desire I previously possessed to exercise. The runs I would go on every day just to clear my head. The healthy meals I would consume. The slim waist I sported. I recalled it all. Exercise is an important part of who I am. It makes me feel physically and mentally strong, and it is a part of me that will never be forgotten again. So long donuts. Hello exercise.
