salt skin

I only have about two weeks of my old school Power 90 left.  I'm trying to fight through the monotony of the same routines every night.  Seeing muscle form under my arm fat helps out with that.  And while I'm exercising, it's not even that bad.  It's just getting started.  It's always getting started.  Putting on my shoes and firing up the DVD and taking those first steps.  Somehow, for the past 70-something days, I've managed to block out the lethargy and get it done.  I can do it for another two weeks.

The weirdest part is I actually look forward to the sweat.  I suppose it makes me feel like I'm really doing something.  If I can finish a workout and not be drenched, I feel I haven't exerted enough effort.  Sweat is how I determine how well I did (or didn't) do during a particular workout.

I almost like the feel of perspiration running down my face and torso.  I like the way it flings off me when I punch and kick, the way it snakes down my torso, caressing that sexy muffin top.  It's oddly sensual.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not some dripping Adonis.  I'm still a fat sweaty guy but knowing I've worked my body up into a slick machine with tight leg muscles and a heart drum solo-ing in my heaving chest pleases me, makes me feel like I'm one step closer to attaining attractive.

It's a lot like coming down after sex, minus the humping.  Erratic breathing balances out and the cool saline strokes your body and you sit in the wake of activity and listen as your heart rate slowly regulates in the stillness.  I like that feeling.  It doesn't last long but I savor those moments of recovery.

But once the afterglow has dimmed, I pretty much feel like crap again.  Where are those endorphins everyone is publicizing?  Exercise is supposed to make you feel better, more energetic.  But I don't.  I wake up in the morning and feel totally wasted.  Yeah, I get enough sleep so that's not the problem.  It's probably my crap nutrition.  Just because I've been cutting out the grease doesn't mean I've been eating healthily.  I go throughout the day in a fog and then come home and sit around until I have to get up and exercise again.  That fog also plays a part in my reluctance to get back up and work out once more.  But I manage.  I only ever feel decent when I'm almost finished with my routine and then do those final stretches and revel in my salt skin for a few minutes.

And then it's back to being a bum.

As many years as I've exercise and as much as I've always hated it, for whatever reason, here and now, I can actually see how people enjoy exercising.  That's not to say that I do.  I still hate it.  I'm definitely not going to adopt some mountain biking, Muscle Milk drinking, kale eating lifestyle, but I can see how it appeals to others.  I almost wish I could be like that.  And maybe one day I will be.  If only I could find a way to hang on to that fleeting feeling of sweaty satisfaction.