One of the advantages of being an indolent slob in your early fifties is that a lifetime of experience being inert has prevented any form of athletic injury. Unlike many of my contemporaries who were runners or rugby players or other some-such-gifted things, and now are unable to do exercise due to the strain of their lifelong efforts on their bodies, my gelatinous frame is still full of blissfully under-used sinews and joints.
A real life example of the hare and the tortoise.
The downside of this of course is that I'm a novice when it comes to getting fit. As far as I'm concerned, buying the running machine was actual exercise. Even if it involved simply typing 'running machine' into the laptop and pressing 'buy'. What a work-out.
To be honest, I've found that getting on the exercise machine isn't so much of a problem. Staying on it is the issue.
I don't know if it says something about me, but looking at this cartoon and the way Iulia is interacting with the anonymous friend on the couch, I feel like I've inadvertently created a kind of swinger's preamble scenario. That wasn't the intention.
Okay, I think that does say something about me, doesn't it. I'll go now.
Ok, you motivated me, we’ll move it again