​Wednesday, January 20, 2016

At Home, Arlington, Massachusetts
 
My body feels horrible. I started working out again when we got back from Chattanooga and this is the first I have worked out every day. I even worked out at the hotel in San Diego during the CP conference. My body is so unhappy - my lungs and my digestion are pretty shot. It's horrifying how much I'm in rough shape. I know this is just while my body readjusts to being worked, but it does not feel good.
 
This semester, this year is my last chance to set healthy habits before we start trying to have kids. And I know once kids are around, it'll probably only go downhill. But I want to take care of myself. I look at my grandparents and I look at my parents, and I want to be a good steward of the body I've been given. I live in a culture that has all but stripped humanity of physical movement and unless I once and for all get it into my head that it's now or never, that my body belongs to God, and as such, I am responsible for maintaining it, I will only set myself up for the sedentary life of those around me. But I want to move and have life as long as God keeps me here. I want to be in charge of my body, not it in charge of me.
 
I know that many people take that desire and twist it into unhealthy obsessions. But I am so far from that. I would literally sit on my ass and eat ice cream every day if I could. I hate discomfort. I hate anything that makes my body feel uncomfortable. But really, it's just selfishness and laziness. I want all of the benefits of health with none of the discipline and work. I am a total American.
 
But I don't want to pass that on to my children and I don't want to set that example for my children. It's not about beauty or vanity, but it's truly about stewarding something I hate to steward and loving something I have always despised – my body.