A Princess Does Not "Feel the Burn"

Or, at least, when I "feel the burn" it is usually more in regards to Jameson shots sliding down my throat, as opposed to overexerted abs or calf muscles.

I have never liked exercise.

What are these "endorphins" you speak of?

Sometimes I run. (And when I say "run" I mean "barely jogging.") Because I know it is good for me. But I hate every minute of it. I have actually, I kid you not, FALLEN ASLEEP while running. Not possible, you say? Well, maybe you don't hate exercise as much as I do.

I hate the ugly shoes. I hate getting up early. I hate using up precious Friends-reruns time on weeknights, and nose-picking time on the weekends. I don't really "do" sweat. And it's impossible to keep your eyes covered, because sunglasses bounce and hats don't really cover as much as I'd like.

Which brings us back to my Falling Asleep Issue. The other day I came up with a resolution to the eyeball protection dilemma. I decided to just close my eyes while I was running. (I know, thank you, thank you, I AM brilliant!) I thought I would just crack my eyes open enough to see where I was going every now and then, and then just keep them shut the rest of the time, to protect them from the sun. Seeing as how endorphins never really kick in for me, I basically put myself to sleep about 20 minutes into a run. So here I am, running along a trail, when suddenly I felt something that could only be compared to a complete mutation into jell-o. All of my limbs suddenly stopped and gave way, mid-stride, and mid-daydream. I jerked my head up (kinda like in physics class in high school when my arm would suddenly stop supporting my chin) and I realized I had veered well off the trail and had fallen completely asleep! My body had taken all of about .036 seconds to go from "jogging" to "completely limp and subconscious."

I must have looked fantastic to passerbys. All my limbs flailing everywhere, looking around wildly because I was not where I thought I was on the trail....

I'm awesome like that.

So anyway, I discovered yoga about two years ago, and I try to go, occasionally, because it is my least-hated form of exercise, by far. (Skiing doesn't count. Skiing is fun, and not really a workout unless you specifically decide to make it one. Which I often don't.) But yoga always ends with a relaxation exercise. (Read: mini nap.) Gotta love the exercise that includes a naptime!

Last night I decided to go to a yoga class, because it had been a while. A good friend called, so I got changed, pinned my hair back, and drove to the studio as we yammered away on the phone. I hung up the phone as I approached the door. Which was locked. ???? Pounding did not make anyone appear, and did not do much for my entrance into a Zen-like state. I grabbed a schedule from the hanging box on the door, and confirmed that, yes indeed, a class was supposed to start in about seven minutes. I hung around, wondering why the universe was fucking with me again, or if I had just forgotten how to tell time completely, when the teacher showed up. Small, personal emergency, class is cancelled for today.

I felt relieved and smiled, and she looked at me kind of oddly, having just described her personal, sad emergency. So I quickly explained that I was just happy because it turns out I'm not crazy.

She didn't look so sure.

So I called my friend back as I walked back to my car, saying, "Phew, what a workout." I decided that since I was all exercise-ready, anyway, I'd just go for a jog when I got home. Somehow, though, my friend and I just ended up talking for the next two hours, and by then it was completely dark. Well, we know THAT'S not safe! So I opted to eat a popsicle dinner (oh yes, I may have even eaten TWO) instead of exercising. Which, I figure, is practically the same thing, except internal. Popcicles and good friends are like exercise for the soul.

-said Princess Zen.