I was recently diagnosed with Type 2 diabetes, and I am 'insulin resistant'. What this means is that my body produces more insulin than I need every day, and my blood sugar is too high. I am being treated with a medication that lowers the output of glucose from my liver, and I have to manage my diet and --- urgh!! -- exercise more.
The dreaded exercise! My mom used to call me a hothouse plant. Hothouse is what they used to call greenhouses when I was growing up, I guess. I would have much rather been inside reading or writing than running around outdoors where I might get <gasp> dirty or sweaty.
I grew up with a crew of younger brothers who were always doing some kind of crazy outdoor stuff like climbing trees (and falling out of them) and playing baseball (think bat to the noggin and skinned knees) and other activities that involved running and sweating and smelling 'tired'. None of that for me, uh uh. My favorite outside sport was a book under the tree in the yard or on the porch.
Most of my junior high leisure time was spent studying or babysitting. I played games with small children, but they were small children's games like hide and seek or peek-a-boo. I played with dolls and learned to sew.
Now my days are filled with a demanding job and lots of running around for my sewing group and my quilting group and my card club and the grands and... well, unless I get up at zero dark in the a.m. I find no time to 'work out'.
Besides, I HATE EXERCISE.
Running is not my thing. I once fell off a skateboard and it wasn't even moving. I have a bad foot and bad knees and a bad back.
I recently signed up to use the fitness center at my office. But there are so many people wanting to use the nine machines that it's hard to find a time that the treadmills are free. Not at the end of the day for sure. And I really can't see myself taking a random half hour to work out, and then returning to my desk all sweaty.
Today I took a mall walk through the second floor halls. Not too long a walk, the halls are not endless. It took me around 12 minutes and I pushed myself to walk fast without actually running. It was -- well, I guess interesting and weird and also somewhat satisfying that I actually got up from my desk and pushed my butt out the door. I need to do that every day, and probably go around twice.
Day one of the rest of my life. I'll never be thin. I never was thin and I don't expect to get that way again, without it being because of a serious illness. But maybe I can move more.
Move more, eat less. The untold secret of successful dieting.
Ugh. I miss cake.