Question: If exercise is so damn good for you — and yes, your honor, I’ll stipulate that it is — why is it so hard to get motivated to do it? Why do you spend the first 20 minutes of a workout thinking, “God, I should bag this”? Why is it accompanied by injury, pain and sweating?
Just asking. I got back on the bike today after a week off, and the trip from the back door to the garage felt like climbing Everest. At the end of the hour I was happy I’d done it, as I always am, but why is the first 15 minutes such a pain? Just asking.
“I want a form of exercise that’s like sex. You want to do it, you work a while, you get a reward, then you go to sleep. Now that’s exercise.” — my friend Jeff Borden, who as far as I know never found this holy grail, but does ride his bike.
I was happy I did it, but I was happy to get home, too. We’re in the dog days of summer — mid-80s and armpit-mildew humid, and an hour of strenuous exercise with a styrofoam hat on will make you, uh, bloom. I felt as though my brain was about to poach.
Remind me of this in January.
Has anybody here ever done a punishingly early work schedule? Send your secrets on coping — I need some tips. I’m in search of the elusive bedtime that allows one to survive on just the night’s sleep and not need a supplemental p.m. nap. I’ve been going to bed at 10, but damn, 3:55 a.m. is simply an insane hour for an alarm. “Do you lie there and hit the snooze three or four times?” someone asked me. Answer: Hail no, I don’t dare. I’m out of bed at 3:55:10, because if I don’t get up immediately I won’t make it up at all. Needless to say, coffee is my middle name. No, “Six Cups” is. Caffeine is a vitamin.
Like exercise, once I get going I’m fine, but oh — that getting going.
And then there’s this, Hollywood at its finest.
Me, I’m going to bed.