Why I Run ~ Blog 45

This is my motivation to run. Or something.

One of the primary reasons to get a chocolate labrador puppy is because you need to run. Labs are notoriously spazzy. There are myriad videos on YouTube of the phenomenon. This is a representative sample.

Instead of inspiration, I have yet another impediment to exercise. Daisy Duke is unusually laid back. In the mornings, she doesn't jump off the guest bed to greet me. Instead, she groans, stretches, rolls onto her back and lays there with her paws in the air for at least half an hour before deciding to come cuddle with me on the couch while I drink coffee.

I watch TV while I drink my coffee, and there, in plain site for all to see, are the annual spate of exercise commercials. P90X is on there, as are Jenny Craig, Weight Watchers and all the other members of the billions-of-dollars-a-year exercise industry. The commercials appeal to me and I weigh about what I weighed in sixth grade. That says a little about me now and a lot about me then.

Not much has changed since I was morbidly obese. I still like watching TV and playing video games. And now there's a 60-pound, cute-as-a-button (since when are buttons cute?) chocolate labrador sitting on my lap. Right this second, actually, she's got her snout wrapped around my right wrist, which makes it tough to hit the 'Y' key.

Contrary to what a lot of people think this year, being physically fit isn't about being motivated. At least, not for me. Those idiot guys at Gold's Gym who drink Muscle Milk and spend hours lifting weights? They're motivated, and often by girls or the thought of girls. I simply really dislike being overweight. It is my resignation to the fact that I have to exercise that gets me off the couch.

You can actually hear me rolling my eyes when I get off the couch to go exercise. It's about to happen here in a few minutes. There will also be an accompanying sigh. This is what it takes to be who I want to be. Damn that idealism.

Mostly, it's who I don't want to be. I don't want to be on medications, though the world wouldn't bat an eyelash at the news if it were true. I don't want to be a 70-year-old who can't go for a walk with his dog. I don't want to be unhealthy, and that's far more my motivation than actually wanting to be healthy.

And so I'm about to do yoga. Daisy Duke and I just got back from a 25-minute run. My back is a little bit sore. It has been, off and on, for about a year. It started when I went skiing in Tahoe, making aggressive turns at around 40 mph. The G-force from the turns tweaked my back; I walked like an 85-year-old for a week.

Therefore, I do yoga. It's not something I love admitting because I know what that sounds like. It sounds like I'm some urban yuppy who drinks lattes and spends far too much money on food and beer. That's not true at all. I don't like lattes.

Nobody would say a word if I decided to see a doctor about this back. The wife is a physician assistant; she'd probably approve the idea. But, if it's possible, I'd like to delay that doctor's visit. Like it or not, yoga helps.

I'll roll off the couch in a minute here and do Downward Dog in my living room with no yoga mat while I'm watching a YouTube yoga video. I don't really want to, but my back hurts. And my next dog, be it Beau or Luke Duke, would probably appreciate it if I'm physically capable of going for a run.