Last night all my excuses for the jiggly thighs and hips, stomach pooch, and flapping triceps, were stolen from me by my friend, Susan. Susan and I are the same age -- well, she is a little younger, by a whopping four months. There she was in her golf skirt with nary a wrinkly knee and not a drop of cellulite in sight. Her arms look good, her face looks young, and she has an enthusiasm for life that is contagious.
How does she do it?
The old-fashioned way: she works hard and plays hard. Exercise is part of her life. Yesterday was one of her relaxed days: only 18 holes of golf, a bike ride, then a dinner party. I've known days where she's played two sets of tennis, taken a 50-mile bike-ride, and followed that with 18 holes of golf.
To say she's in great shape would be a serious understatement -- she's in fabulous shape.
If she weren't such a wonderful person, I'd have to hate her for stealing my excuses. So it's back to the Wii and the 30-day killer challenge, rather than the random program I can select that won't push me to the point of feeling my achy muscles tomorrow.
So ache I must. All in the service of getting myself back into great shape.
I guess it will feel better to thank Susan than to hate her.
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