I AM WHAT I AM

One of life’s greatest assets is to be comfortable with who we are, and for the most part, I am.  I like being me.  But still I struggle, because there is something I am not very comfortable with…and this is the time of year when it haunts me the most.  I enjoy a sedentary life, finding pleasure in sitting quietly, engaged in some of the many activities that are possible while remaining physically inert.  I can do this without remorse on cold winter days, or on any gray, wet, stormy day.  But in the spring, when classic southern California weather descends upon western Kentucky, and I am sitting in the comfort of our front porch with a glass of chilled Pinot Grigio, my peaceful repose is continually affronted by people passing by on their bikes, people walking briskly with or without dogs, and worst of all, those people we refer to as runners or joggers.  They often smile and wave or nod a greeting, but I know what they are really thinking, “hey pudge, why don’t you get up and move your ass, it’s good for you”.  I wonder, does it delight them to make me feel guilty?

And they are not alone.  It seems I’m always reading something extolling the benefits of exercise; it helps prevent heart disease, it promotes weight loss, it makes you feel better, and on and on, ad nauseum.  I am surrounded by admonitions to get up and move, to walk, or run, or exercise.  These physical activity gurus are almost as bad as the food crazies, who want me to eat plants, nuts, and berries.

Now it may sound like I am wallowing in guilt because of all this, but I am not!  A lesser man than me might be. But being the tiger that I am, I have made peace with my sedentary proclivities.  We cannot be or do everything that others advise us to do.  If we all ran, or rode our bikes the streets would be cluttered with runners and bikers, and someone would surely get hurt, not to mention the epidemic of stress fractures that would follow.  Drivers would be leaning on their car horns, frustrated and angry, and road rage would ensue, with even more injuries.

I choose to take the high road, or my case, the high porch, sitting above the fray and congratulating myself for not contributing to potential civil carnage in the streets of our town.

I cannot end this brief narrative without making one confession.  Although I am an honest and standup kind of guy, I can, on occasion, be rather devious.   In regards to this jogging/running thing, I have, from time to time, splashed water on my head and face, wrapped a damp towel around my neck, and wearing running shoes and shorts, stood at the steps to our porch stretching my legs like the runners do.  To anyone who sees me, I have just completed my run.

I am not very proud of this charade, but hey, I am what I am.

Resting with Delia