A friend suggested I post this and I guess it's as good a rant as any.  It's a Tuesday evening and I am on my couch.  Sometime in 1998 I started training at a martial arts studio.  I began this for warped reasons and if anyone had told me back then that someday I was going to get my black belt I would have said they were crazy. When I was younger I worked out 4 times a week, after work.  I also had a regular gym membership back then.  I was going to 2 classes and 2 workouts each week.  I hadn't even cracked 30 then and I ate like a farm animal.  Them was the good old days.
   I broke up with a boyfriend and had to end the gym membership when a relationship ended.  I couldn't handle seeing my ex there.  I did find another gym and also another boyfriend.  Nine months later I got engaged.  My new love was not much for working out but went along to be polite.  We moved in together shortly before the wedding and with both of us working it became really tough to get both of us to the gym a half an hour from his house.  Eventually, the membership had to go as we weren't using it.  I decided to train an additional night at the dojang.
   Seventeen years later, I still train.  Our little girl is six and full of energy.  Mommy and Daddy are idiot tired.  The only one at our house who eats like a farm animal and can get away with it is four feet tall.
   What bothers me is that I find myself looking for almost any cheap excuse to avoid working out. It seems I can only come up with two justifiable reasons for skipping, not that I ever feel that way.  I am giving myself a "slug pass" on the first day of my period.  Who in their right mind would be in a hurry to put on white pants much less work out?? Shouldn't that be an automatic 'no thanks'? The other excuse is bad weather.  I will not drive during hellfire and brimstone coming down in the summer or an ice rink in the winter.  I like my car in the shape it's in, unwrinkled.
   I can only wonder what the hell happened to me. 'But you were a gym rat when you were younger, don't you enjoy working out?', my friend asked.  No, not really.  I don't think I ever did.  I began working out as a compulsion to keep my weight under control.  This later morphed into meeting a boyfriend at the gym.  This later morphed into following the suggestion of a martial arts instructor saying I really needed to train an additional night (aka take his class).  This has now degenerated into my contract is paid for I need to get my ass over there. The enthusiasm is underwhelming.  For reasons I have yet to grasp, I feel guilty as hell when I don't go.
   I worked out this evening and even though I didn't feel like going I'm glad I did. I lived.  It wasn't a cage match where the loser gets eaten.  Yes, once in a purple moon it's a tough workout.  For someone who's constantly in fear of getting too fluffy, isn't that a good thing? At least after a class,  I don't feel so bad about all the chocolate and alcohol. There are also esoteric benefits to going.  When I pull into the parking lot I usually check out the cars to see who's there.  Misery loves company.  I keep wanting to do better than that.
   The biggest problem I'm having is that after all these years I'm looking for something I can enjoy doing.  That's probably nuts.  Workouts are only enjoyable in ad campaigns aren't they?