Treasonous Musclulature
This afternoon I forced myself to the gym, as I've been trying to do since summer began with varying degrees of success. About halfway through weight-lifting, my right tricep decided it was done, and started to cramp up every time I tried to flex it. As a result, I ended up leaving the gym early, and kept my right elbow bent for the rest of the afternoon. While walking home, with my right arm forming a 90 degree angle, a rather depressing thought struck me: "If exercise is this difficult and unbearable when I'm 23, the physical prime of my life, what's it going to be like when I'm 30? Or 40?"
I had always been told that as you exercise more, it gets easier and more enjoyable. And back when I did exercise regularly, it did get easier. But it never got more enjoyable. It never got to a point where I enjoyed exercising, where I would choose to spend my time exercising willingly if it health weren't an issue. Which is why I let exercise go so easily when I get distracted by other things, and spend all my time trying to recover lost ground.
It's probably genetic. There are three basic body types determined by genetics: skinny people who can't gain weight if they try (ectomorph), body-builders who can develope muslce-tone by breathing (mesomorph), and then people like me who's bodies excel in fat production (endomorph). Exercise is still important, as is watching my eating habits, but due to my genetics it doesn't matter how many sit-ups I do, the closest I'll get to "six-pack abs" is balanching coke cans on my stomach. I wouldn't be surprised if those same genes keep me from enjoying physical activity the way those rat-bastard mesomorphs do.
Still, I'm not going to get anywhere just blaming my circumstances, so it's back to the gym tomorrow (cardio only, though). After all, it'll only get harder from here.