Thursday, March 5, 2015

Microstory 7: True Story II

When I was very young, no older than five years old, I saw someone on television doing gymnastics. I would later learn that the trick they performed was a round-off back handspring, backflip. I turned to my mother and said, "I want to do that." She said, "okay." Sometime later, I started gymnastics. And I did it for eleven years. I also played baseball for several years. When I entered high school, my parents made me join the dive team. I ended up doing some swimming events as well. But I never liked it. There was too much competition. And I would prefer a world where everyone wins. Plus, I'm afraid of heights! But that's all another story. The point is that I was physically active for my entire life. It was second nature. I didn't realize that it was keeping me healthy. Then I went to college. All of it stopped. I spent so much time in a different city that I didn't even walk my dog very much. The meal plan allowed me to eat as much as I wanted, and only kept track of the number of meals. I was used to eating as much as I wanted and burning it off regularly. But not anymore. I gained a lot of weight. I won't get into specifics. It wasn't entirely noticeable to others if I wore the right clothes. Which meant it wasn't entirely noticeable to me. So, it just kept getting worse. I tried some diets. I tried becoming more active. But I am SOO busy. I spend every second of every day thinking about my stories, even when I'm asleep. Even when I'm doing something else. But I can only multitask so much and working out was, well...too much work.

The other day, I decided that I needed to push myself. I needed to force myself into a workout situation that I couldn't get out of. So, I started walking the 5.8 miles (42 blocks) from my house to my parents' house. At a certain point, there was no turning back. I could have called someone to pick me up. But that would have made me a failure. And, being Japanese, that's not really an option. My fingers swelled up, worsened by the fact that I didn't think to take off my ring. My feet blistered and suffered from poor circulation. But since my fingers were swollen, I couldn't loosen my shoelaces. But I made it. I had enough water. I had some good music. And I even made a few minor breakthroughs in my stories. There is no point, or really even an end, to this story. I'm telling it, though, because it keeps me accountable. And maybe if I know that others know I did this once, it will make it that much harder to excuse myself from doing something like it again. Thank you for your time. Microfiction resumes tomorrow on my official Tavis Highfill Page.

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