Under exercised?

It’s rare that I find myself feeling over exercised – not because I’m such a great athlete that I can keep going for hours without suffering the consequences. Far from it – I just don’t have the stamina to push myself hard enough that it hurts. If I did, then I’d no doubt have more luck shifting those excess kilos I want to lose. As my husband the marathon runner pointed out today, exercise has to go beyond what is comfortable for it to have any benefit. And of course that’s why so many of us hate the idea of exercising – and why so many of my friends have recently quoted newspaper reports that exercise either a) makes no difference to weight unless you’re prepared to go mad with it (hence, they argue, there’s little point starting), or b) has no benefits – even to general health – for about 15% of the population (hence, they argue, there’s little point starting)...

BUT I do exercise enough that I can easily feel under-exercised. It’s that niggling, nagging feeling, deep in my muscles, which are saying: “Come on, get out there and DO something!!” My usual exercise routine is not great, but it’s better than nothing – a 40 minute walk with my dog every morning, and a second walk in the evening if he’s lucky; aquarobics twice a week, and yoga once a week. If I don’t do these things – my body misses them. I hated sports when I was a child and a teenager. But now I love the extra energy just this small amount if exercise gives me. I know it boosts my mood, makes me more positive, and helps get my creative juices flowing. If I have a problem to solve, or an idea to find, the answer will come while I am jumping up and down in the swimming pool, or walking in the park with my dog. (Thinking up new ideas is strictly forbidden in yoga, when we’re all supposed to be emptying our minds and focusing on our breath). Exercise worms its way into your heart and makes you want more. I want to start liking Body Pump.  I daydream about doing Zumba, and sometimes I even find myself yearning to go for a run!  It's surely a sign I am under-exercised - I have reached a plateau and my body needs more. So what's stopping me? I have the shoes. I have the shorts.  I can imagine myself running, and I see other people doing it and can feel how much they love it. I even have a great book – Run Fat Bitch Run, by Ruth Field (£10.99 Sphere) – strapped: “The only personal trainer you’ll ever need”. It really makes me want to get out there, feel my muscles working, my heart pumping, the breeze on my face... But then my husband comes in, sweaty and breathless after his five mile run, and, even though he swears he feels great, I can't help thinking: “Oh nooooooo – that’s going to hurt far too much!” 

Will I ever start running? I promise I'll let you know!