I've always had a love/hate relationship with exercise--I love to hate working out. And I've never had an athletic (not to mention coordinated) bone in my body, ever. I am the least athletic and least coordinated person you will ever meet. But, I try to make myself work out anyway because I'd like to travel, and that usually requires a lot of walking.
My current routine is an hour on the treadmill followed by 20-30 minutes of weight machines, ideally 3 times a week (sometimes, this plan never moves past the stage of just being an idea!
), so when I get done with a workout, I usually feel fairly accomplished.
That is... until I'm around any members of my family.
My parents will say, "Oh, let's go for a short walk..." and their idea of a short walk is 3 miles... before breakfast... in the snow... uphill... both ways.
Seriously. What my parents will call "a walk" always has me running just to keep up with them.
And let's not even talk about my little brother. He and I were traveling several years ago and our first train was late, putting us in serious danger of missing our second train. He told me to RUN, and when I couldn't keep up with him, he grabbed my backpack so that all I had to carry was one bag instead of two--and he was carrying 3: my backpack, HIS backpack, and his separate day pack. He was easily carrying a good 100+ pounds of gear in addition to his own body weight and I STILL couldn't keep up with him.
Needless to say, we made it to our train on time.
And for the rest of the trip, I tried to tell him that he was to be my own personal pack mule from now on. (He didn't quite agree with that.)
I suppose God made it this way to keep me humble. Every time I finish a workout, I think I'm doing ok. And then, I spend time around my family... and promptly go back to realizing that I am actually an overgrown slug.