I have a hate-hate relationship with exercise. I need it, oh right now how I need it, and I don't want to do it. What I want to do is sit around and shove food in my mouth and just keep sitting there, and fail to gain any weight or die of progressive heart disease because of the plaque I'm allowing to build up in my arteries.

Seriously, I am so incredibly lazy.

I had not exercised in a year and a half and after two weeks of much angst and worry over what I would do to get back in the game, I went to a kickboxing class at the gym where I've been a $34 monthly donor for several years. It was hard. I thought I was going to expire. I was profoundly bothered by the man in front of me, who attacked this class with a drama unseen in Beijing this summer, and yet I wasn't satisfied to admire him for his energy and instead chose to judge him for his overwrought punching and kicking and for my rear view of his unfortunate shorts.

I am lazy and I am also a judger. Nice.

Really I admire people with energy and discipline, people who won't give in to their mind games with themselves, who just (oh God) do it.

I need to go back this week. I really do. I need to develop a routine. I just don't want to at all.