I Like To Move It, Move It.

Every few years or so I get this crazy, cockamamie idea that perhaps exercise might be a good thing for my body. There I'll be, all set to schedule my tapeworm-implant surgery, and a little voice inside my head will say, "What about a walk around the block instead?" This epiphany is usually followed by the purchase of a pair of overpriced running shoes and the pillaging of the Lycra section of my local Target. The last time this happened I had Kira and Kiyomi with me, the three of us crammed into one of their shoebox-sized dressing rooms, and I had to put up with all their snide comments. "You're buying exercise clothes? What for?" and "Tell us again why you need a tracksuit to watch Oprah."

This need to 'accessorize up' for any type of physical endeavor is not new to me. Before we were married Rigel and I spent a lot of time bike riding and once signed up for a three-day ride that would take us from Flagstaff, Arizona to the Grand Canyon. Besides the fact that we left Los Angeles at 2am and drove all night to get to Flagstaff for a 7am ride, Rigel's favorite part of the story is how I plunked down $500 for a brand new bike the night before we left. This was in those heady days before house payments and kids, and I felt for certain that a new bike was essential to my enjoyment of the trip, regardless of the expense. We awoke to find a huge snowstorm raging outside (this really is a story for another post) and I never got to take my new wheels for the ninety mile journey. I really liked how my new bike looked sitting up on that bike rack though, and, set off against a background of new fallen snow - it would have almost been a shame to spoil it by taking it down for a ride.

Last summer I vowed to take advantage of the beautiful park that is located only a block and half away from us - it has a jogging/biking path that meanders through trees and soccer fields, and I calculated that a couple of times around the thing would be enough to work off at least one of the slices of bacon from my breakfast. So, off I went to the store to purchase the essentials: One-strapped mini backpack to carry my keys, I.D. and water, sporty windbreaker to appear fashionable while staying warm, and new lighter headphones for my cd player. It only took me four hours to prepare for my walk, and I have to say the whole exercise thing was starting to seem like a really good idea.

Once I got home, though, I was thinking that I should have taken along a book for my midpoint break, and a granola bar would have helped - I sure worked up an appetite trying to hook up my new headphones and thread the cord through the special 'media clip' in my new backpack. Rigel said he had a great idea for my next power-walk, and went to the other room to fetch our rolling suitcase and ice-chest on wheels.

We celebrated Rigel's birthday this weekend, which I think is the main reason for my (and his) latest exercise crisis. Between Friday, when we gathered friends for martinis and appetizers, and Saturday when we met other friends for a huge meal, I estimate that the amount of food the two of us consumed would be enough to solve the food shortage in several of our local homeless shelters. Add to that the fact that we spent all day yesterday patting our stomachs and making loud barnyard noises and it all points to us needing to devise a serious exercise plan, stat. I'm off to the mall to prepare - I'll be the one in Foot Locker, buying some swanky new Nikes and scarfing down a churro.

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