A Reflection of Childhood

Greetings on this miserable rainy night,

My dear husband has been telling me that I need a hobby (aka-exercise outlet) ever since I first met him. He has struggled to understand how I made it through life without this outlet since he was raised quite the opposite. His poor mother has told me about her amazing, gigantic calendar that used to track all three kids' sports-it was as if each needed their own secretary to keep track of practices, games, summer camps and the likes. I will say, that what was embedded into each of the Gonnella kids was something I could have certainly used growing up. They had a routine and their bodies exhibited fit athletes who now know HOW to exercise and still require it to feel good. And I DID get exercise as a kid, just not the way most do. Come away with me to the High Desert of California, circa 1980's...

Instead of a track, my sister and I had "acreage". Five to be precise, enough to run and run and never see the same thing twice in one day. Instead of a ball to throw, we hurled dried up sandstone and dirt clods at one another, or at a passing rattlesnake. Instead of soccer, we kicked around tumbleweeds. Basketball? Nope, we threw rocks into old rusted cans. Sure there were organized sporting events "in town". And I was on a soccer team. For a few weeks.

It just never appealed to me. The sweating, the competition, the commitment to a long term "plan". No, I much rather preferred to read, to write, to play an instrument. To gaze for hours at the cloud formations in the desert sky. I enjoyed people too much to compete with anyone. I loved music and dancing. I was a dreamer. Who am I kidding-I am a dreamer.

Now, fast forward to the present. Oh! Guess what has motivated me to exercise?! Reading and writing and playing instruments don't help you lose the little fat pockets around your waist and the "squishy" spot on your stomach after birthing three children in under four years! Who would have guessed that skinny Becca who used to drink high fat and protein shakes in hopes of GAINING weight, would be writing a blog about exercise and losing a bit of leftover baby poundage. It all makes sense. I have incorporated writing and exercise. Note which has come first. But I digress. Friday is the day. It begins in less than 72 hours. Me and the pavement. I don't even know what to wear. I don't even care. I'm going the distance.

Exhausted just thinking about it,

Rebecca

PS. Nick, you were right. For the past 13 years you have been encouraging me to at least try to find an exercise outlet. I will have my "plan" to you by close of business tomorrow. Thanks for being my patient, supporting, husband. You were right all along... painting walls is not an outlet. Neither is going grocery shopping alone. And neither is sleeping.