i am afraid of my own success

It’s seven-thirty in the morning. It has been one month – approximately – since I’ve made a post.

For some of you who know me personally, you know that this blog is only one of many projects I’ve decided to catch under my self-described Activism ADD umbrella. I want so desperately to enact positive change after seeking solace in negativity for so long. Eight months ago, I found myself committing to every volunteer opportunity that crossed my path. Seven months ago, I added this blog to the already blustery landscape, convinced that I would make time for it – just like I was “making time” for everything else – because I felt obligated, somehow, to share what I’d learned about bicycling and personal health to the world. It is incredibly important to me to be able to describe the lifestyle changes I’ve made, will make, and am making, in the knowledge that they’ve helped me positively transform my worldview. I want the possibility to exist that someone might read this blog and my words will click with them, and the roadblocks that previously prevented that person from living at full capacity will slowly melt away, as mine are doing.

So why haven’t I been writing? Where are these inspirational words – the jewels of my experience, the stones collected on the long, hard road of existence?

It isn’t that I’m not learning enough to write about. I’m learning plenty. I have a long list of topics that send excited shivers down my spine whenever I so much as think about writing them.

It seems I’m afraid of my own success.

This is an old habit of mine that tends to resurface right after I’ve felt the high that comes from breaking through one of my barriers. I’m feeling good about myself. I’m motivated. I’m getting things accomplished for myself and others at the same time. I have multiple functional projects, each receiving a responsible amount of attention. I’m talking to strangers and “putting myself out there,” something I’ve never thought myself capable of doing. Then, like the spin on Wheel of Fortune that teeters on the grand prize winnings before flopping over to bankrupt, I stop. I just. Stop. Everything.

I start to panic. Who are you to claim you can take this on? What was that? There are so many others with so much more experience than you have. Give it up. You’re making a fool out of yourself. Huh? People are tired of hearing you talk about gardens and bicycles. It’s been long enough since you worked on it that you may as well just write it off. Why are you asking for help on a project that will probably fizzle out anyway, like all the others you started? Have you forgotten that you wanted to be a veterinarian neuroscientist shipwreck scavenger astrobiologist forensic pathologist actress musician, too? Why do you think you have the capability to do these things? Just stop now and you won’t be embarrassed when you inevitably fail.

This line of thought used to cut short any real ambition I had, dissolving my confidence at the root: Failure is possible. Failure is embarrassing. Don’t try and you won’t fail.

I’m breaking that thought off right now.

Here’s my counterargument, self. I’m not on anyone’s schedule besides my own. I choose when I have meetings, the words I put down on paper, the people I connect with, and the knowledge I share. I also choose when I will share that knowledge. If I took a break from any of my projects, it’s because something else needed my attention. If that something else was me, and I wanted to be selfish for a while, then I have the right to devote as much time to me as I desire. I am passionate about everything I take time to do, and when I work on something, my love for it and natural inclination toward it will show. Which brings me to my next issue with your persuasion, o self, ego, ye of little faith: failure is the best part of an idea that has no limit.

Yeah, you heard me. Failure is the absolute best thing that can happen to an unlimited idea.

It makes sense. If I had only one, concrete goal, then failure could devastate the possibility of that goal being accomplished. My greatest strength lies in the fact that I have no idea what I’m doing. I have no idea where any of this is going. I know what I’d like to see, but by keeping my options open and only striving to be better, not best, I completely remove failure from the equation. I can’t fail in blogging because I plan to write more posts. I can’t, technically, fail at anything.

If I tell myself, “I would like to be a celebrated internet presence, achieve enlightenment, save the world, and be loved and admired by all,” then I have set myself up for failure because really, dude. Really.

Goals are great if they don’t actually put a cap on your aptitude and capability. I’m finished with letting my goals determine whether or not I have succeeded or failed – it’s time to let my goals be landmarks, not limits.

I have no idea what I’m capable of, but I’m finally ready to find out.

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the screaming man

Recently, my mother was discharged from a rehabilitation facility in Spokane, WA after a metal plate and eleven screws were installed in her ankle. While I could make the case that one can most certainly travel two hundred miles with weird insurance restrictions – it would fit the theme of the blog, right? – that’s not the point of this post.

First of all, a little background on my mother: rape survivor, former addict, former sufferer from severe depression, now a powerhouse of optimism and hellfire despite having very weak knees and fibromyalgia. I like to think of her as the kind of woman who, if encountered by the devil, would pinch his cheeks and say something like, “aww, look at you, thinking you’re all bad.” Naturally, when she found out that our uneven backyard would send her so far away from her family for two months, she was upset – determined to right the situation at all costs, but upset. Nevertheless, she went to the rehabilitation joint with the thought in mind that she was going to make the best out of it.

And she did. She made quite an impression. I’ve met some of the residents (and aides) who were mercilessly exposed to my mother’s “chin up, you sissy” demeanor, and the general consensus is that she did make the place brighter just by being herself. Though important, this is also not the point of the post. I’m getting there.

When she came back, she told me a story about one of the residents who lived there – I’ll call him George. He and his wife were in the same motorcycle accident, receiving similar injuries to their spinal cords as a result. His wife – with intense physical therapy, patience, and a mind-boggling amount of willpower – recovered. George, meanwhile, resigned himself to his condition – he refused to do therapy, as he didn’t see the point in it. His wife visited him constantly – but he resented her for her recovery in the face of his total disability. She left him; she couldn’t stomach the vitriol.

Every night, George would scream. “God, why can’t you just take me? Please let me die! Please! I want to die, God, can’t you do that for me?” Left alone to his thoughts, he was inconsolable. He was broken both in body and in spirit, and he refused to see the tiniest spark of life left in him as a beacon of hope. He was dying, he wanted to be dead, and he couldn’t fathom the cruelty of a world that would try to keep him alive. Bottom line.

George was taken to hospital one evening, and after a few days had passed, my mother noticed that someone else was moving into his room. When she inquired after him, the nurse bit her lip. “I’m not supposed to tell you,” she began, but thought better of it after a moment. “George died.”

He’d finally gotten his wish.

What a wish.

My mother would go on to work at her own therapy even harder. She reduced her predicted recovery time by a month, and even after, she refused to slow down. The residents and staff asked her, “Why are you pushing yourself so hard? You don’t have to keep moving all the time.” Or, “there are people to help you with things like that if you can’t do it.”

Her response was simple. “If you don’t keep moving, you die.”

So, yeah. If you don’t keep moving, you die. Pretty straightforward.

(Dedicated to every George, ever.)

free and quick fitness! or: where did my get up and go … go?

“Exercise is so boring and repetitive. Maybe if I could take a dance or yoga class, it would be easier to stay in shape.”

“I’d go to the gym to get fit, but I can’t afford it.”

“I don’t have time to work out.”

Like, almost everybody, everywhere.

Guys! Hey guys! Let me tell you a secret: my brain is the biggest junkie in the world.

You’d never know it from glancing at me – paragon of self-control as I am (why is everyone laughing?). It craves fun things – all. The. Time. It likes to be entertained twenty-four hours a day. If something is boring, it will withhold a bunch of awesome chemicals I need to feel good – like dopamine. Since dopamine is key to nearly every awesome feeling ever, this is basically the molecular equivalent of a small child folding her arms, stamping her foot, and pouting – “no, this isn’t fun, why are you doing this. FINE, here’s a song you loathe on repeat for eight hours. Didn’t know you knew ALL the lyrics, did you, punk?

Our wonderful society, thanks to various forms of science, has developed a near-endless repository of entertainment possibilities that are so much easier for our brains to get a fix from than getting up and moving around. What’s even more ridiculous? Some of those activities are among those we wouldn’t normally associate with being entertaining. Ever been bored enough with an assignment at an office job that you decide to “check Facebook”? Well, maybe if your boss sprinkled more dopamine precursor chemicals on top of those TPS reports, you might be more motivated to get them done.

What’s often the case, sadly, is that we’ve made some of the more potent “fixes” easier and easier to obtain. Take the teenage gamer stereotype, for instance – one I have witnessed with my own eyes. School’s out – cripes, what a day. Time to switch on the Xbox. The television goes boom! Crash! Rat-tat-tat-tat! Oh crap, what do you mean the enemy has a predator missile?  The teenage gamer, rushing on adrenaline, takes a pull off a 20 oz. bottle of Mountain Dew (with extra caffeine, natch, and a whopping 77 grams of sugar) and finally gets the game-winning kill for his side. Bam! Reward system activated! YEAAAAH!

I forget. Why is it so difficult to get kids to play outside again?

Speaking of, how about the instance of the harried working mother of three who, on a miraculous weekend, finally gets some time to herself? “I’ve worked enough,” she sighs, and goes shopping instead; then, on the way home, she picks up fast food for dinner, along with a bottle of wine.

Sure, you could get the same amount of reward chemicals from working out – if you did it constantly. No wonder no one has time to stay in shape any more – your brain has discovered far more efficient ways of getting its dopamine on.

Not only that, but fitness is something that is constantly sold to us – sold, not told. You need workout clothes. How about an iPod? Your shoes suck; how do you expect to walk in those, let alone run? Why are you running? Gym memberships are better; our machines are more efficient. No, ours are. You should buy one. Our instructors are offering classes, too, but you need to pay for those separately.

You can see how this might lead to all kinds of creative excuses about not having enough time or money for fitness.

Coming from a poor family (I’m talking four people crammed into a 500-sq-ft apartment kinda po’, occasional homelessness po’), I know what it’s like to fall into a reward-seeking mindset. You’re so busy surviving that you forget you need to live. Cue emotional eating. Sugars! Fats! Salts! How about booze? Booze can be cheap, right? God, I wish my life were better. I could use a cigarette.

I also know that exercise can be free, have effects on dopamine that last way longer than any of the above fixes, and doesn’t throw your body into a self-destructive hate spiral. Here are a few quick, fun, and inexpensive ways to incorporate working out into your life:

1) Just dance.  “But I can’t dance.” Cool! Neither can I! Whether or not you have rhythm or a celebrity dancing partner has no bearing on the fact that you have a body that was designed to move. So, next time there’s a break in your day, even for only five minutes – switch on the radio, close the drapes, tell everyone to leave you alone for a few (whatever it takes!) and get down. Pretend your weird arrhythmic lunges are part of some amazing new interpretive dance that the invisible audience in front of you has paid hundreds of dollars to appreciate. Jump up and down, do some twists and twirls, shake your magnificent buttocks. If you’re breathing hard when the song’s over – success! (Not to mention the obvious benefits of acting like a child for a little while – that’s right, it makes you feel youthful.)

2) Fidget with everything. Remember that annoying guy who always made the tables shake because his knee was bouncing up and down? And he said he couldn’t stop it because it was just the way his body wanted to move? Be that guy.

3) Physicaaaallll challennnnnge! I’ve said it before, but setting even the smallest goals and busting them down like you’re the Kool-Aid Man does wonders for your reward system. You don’t even have to tell anyone. Race yourself to the top of the stairs. See how long it takes you to walk from one place to another, then try to beat that goal. There’s a reason competition winners are so happy, y’know.

4) Free classes for everything online. If you’re reading this, you probably have the Internet in some form. I love free internet classes. While nothing can beat getting one-on-one help from an instructor, the truth is, you can learn a lot on your own. The one I like the most is YogaYak, which is basically a collection of hundreds of free yoga classes. I’d recommend yoga to anyone, personally, but if yoga isn’t your thing, you can punch “free ____ classes online” into YouTube or Google and get a lot of videos to choose from. And while it may not provide all the features of a live class, it’s definitely a start if you’ve been really interested in something for years but never could afford classes. Another great thing about videos is that you can pause them if life interferes. You can’t pause a yogi. (A yogi would probably be quick to point out that they pause themselves, thank you.)

5) Go biking! I’m so predictable sometimes.

Any other suggestions? What do you do for free fun and fitness?

diy: citrus cleaner/degreaser

I loooove my bike. I love it. I really do. The only problem with bicycling everywhere, though, is the fact that the chain, gears, and frame tend to get a teensy bit … well, I’ll just show you.

Notice the black gunk on the chain? How about the fabulous streak on the frame right behind the front derailer? Delicious, right? Don’t lick it. I know it’s tempting. But don’t.

Unfortunately, a lot of the products on the market for degreasing bicycle chains tend to have really, really adverse effects on the environment (and if they don’t jive with the dirt they’re dripping onto, they probably won’t jive with the environment on a human organism, either). They’re made from petrochemicals – that is, chemicals derived from petroleum/oil production and refinement – and as such, you probably don’t want that stuff to end up on your skin by accident. Not only that, but they can get pricey. Some degreasers can cost as much as $10 per bottle, and if you’re a cheapo like me, you probably see a price like that on a little bottle and go “hahaha! Wait. Really?”

A few months ago, I was trying to put together a little how-to guide for simpler living in my town. While it didn’t take off as I wanted it to, there were a few things in there that definitely have a home on this blog. Like homemade degreaser. I originally intended to promote it as a replacement for most surface/oven cleaners on the shelves (and this stuff’s been around much longer than these companies), but I tried it on my bike chain and gears in about June, and – yep, you guessed it – it worked like a charm.

So, what’s in it? How is it made? Where does it come from? Is it witchcraft?

It has two ingredients, both of which can be found easily at any supermarket: distilled white vinegar and citrus fruit peels. (Okay, so you might not be able to buy just the peels. But you won’t see me complaining about having to eat citrus fruit. Yes, this homemade degreaser will even ward off scurvy if you let it.)

In order to make it, all you do is fill up a big jar (like one of those monstrous pickle jars from a wholesale store) as much as you want with citrus peels. Oranges, lemons, limes, grapefruit. Then, you pour the vinegar on top of the peels until they’re all covered, but not so much that they’re drowning in it. Just cover ’em. Last, place an old, clean washcloth (or a cheesecloth if you want to be all fancypants) over the top of the jar. That way, you still have a source of oxygen for the process that makes the cleaner, but you won’t let any huge foreign particles in the jar. Let it soak for about a month. Strain out the peels, dilute with a little water.

That’s it. I’m serious. That is the secret behind all the really good citrus cleaners out there. You pickle some fruit peelings. I know, right?

It’s not witchcraft, inasmuch as science isn’t a form of witchcraft, which is highly debatable to me at times. Speaking of, SCIENCE AHEAD: The reason it works so well is a chemical compound in the peels called limonene, which is one of the chemicals (terpenes, for you geeks) responsible for giving citrus fruit its citrus-y smell. Limonene is an extremely powerful solvent and is particularly good at binding to petroleum-based greases – y’know, what a lot of us use on our bike chains. The vinegar extracts the limonene from the orange peels, and what you have left is a concentrated, delicious-smelling cleaner that will degrease the crap out of your bike chain. And it’s mega-cheap. And it’s completely non-toxic. And you can use it to clean literally everything in your house.

Did I mention it was cheap? Oh, okay. Just checking.

cut yourself a break

Image courtesy of David Castillo Dominici / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Sometimes, it’s really easy for me to look at all the mistakes I’ve made in my life that held me back from being a better person today and go, “Oh, man. I really screwed up. I should’ve done [blank] instead of [blank].” Some mistakes are small, like staying up late when I know I have to get up early. Some of them are a little weightier, like drinking too much and making a fool out of myself. And then some of them are huge, like borrowing way more student loan money than I knew I could pay back. It’s true that living with the consequences of your actions is par for the course when you do anything, but how much punishment, exactly, are you supposed to meter out for yourself when you do something stupid? How do you know if you’re being too lenient or too harsh?

We live in a culture where perfection is not only a goal, but it’s a goal that everyone seems to have reached but us. It feels natural to self-deprecate on one or more character flaws, because if we don’t give ourselves a psychological twenty lashes, then who’s going to? And really, if that’s where it stops – then that’s fine. If you need to give yourself a stern talking-to in order to avoid making the same mistake twice, then by all means. Some people, however – myself included – have a habit of drawing out the punishment until it counteracts what they’re trying to accomplish.

For instance, I used to have a huge problem with emotional eating. My self-image wasn’t so great (understatement), and I was pretty overweight on top of it. So, I’d look at myself in the mirror, hate myself for a little while, then open the refrigerator and find the most comforting food I could (usually something sugary, with lots of chocolate) to stuff into the gap between my perception of myself and who I really was. Unsurprisingly, not only did that practice exacerbate the problem, but I was also getting more and more depressed with each repetition of the cycle.

(Image courtesy of Idea go / FreeDigitalPhotos.net)

No human being on this planet is born perfect. To have a perfect person, the paragon of perfection would have to corporeally exist for a comparison, and it doesn’t. Each and every one of us has some kind of genetic mutation or psychological tendency due to our (or our ancestors’) adaptation to the environment around them, and we adapt in order to survive. There’s a reason you made whatever mistake you made: to help you become a better person. To help you evolve and adapt. If you’re an emotional eater, then the urge to eat when you’re depressed exists so you have a chance to exercise your willpower. When you exercise your willpower, you strengthen your sense of self. Just because you aren’t the person you want to be right now doesn’t mean that you’ll never get there. What’ll get you there is not beating yourself up about what you aren’t, though – it’s working, at your own pace, toward who you believe you should be.

Wading in a pool of self-hatred (or even hatred of others – sometimes, highlighting others’ character flaws puts less pressure on us to change ours) does absolutely nothing to change what you did in the past to put you at this point in your life. It doesn’t change you, it just makes you feel worse about yourself in the long run. That’s why the Lord’s Prayer is so important in Alcoholics/Narcotics Anonymous meetings to Christians and non-Christians alike: it’s constant recognition of the fact that you’re only in control of what you do at this moment. An hour from now, we could get hit by a giant asteroid. We could be taken over by lawn gnomes. You could find a winning lottery ticket on the sidewalk. You could meet someone claiming to be the reincarnation of Genghis Khan, who makes collages out of old shoelaces in order to atone for his past atrocities. Each individual second that passes, each tiny interaction between us and the molecules jammed together in front of our faces, influences how we perceive the world. And we have absolutely no control over what happens to us. We do, however, have complete control over how we react to what happens.

If you grab a pan out of the oven without a mitt, you’re probably not going to spend the rest of your life wallowing in depression because you burned your hand. You may avoid baking for a while until the burn heals, but there’s only a real problem if you never bake again. Most people, I think, would just remember the oven mitt next time. Personality flaws are no different. If you lose a friend because you lost your temper and punched them in the face, then you may not have friends for a while. But you’ll have an opportunity, later in life, to not punch someone in the face. And the more you avoid punching someone in the face, the easier it will be to not punch someone in the face.

So, like the title says, cut yourself a break. If we’re alive for any reason at all, it’s to figure out what we’re supposed to do with this “life” thing in the first place. Usually, that’s as simple as making sure it goes on.

eating well on the cheap: you vs. the ramen diet

One of the most common (and accurate) portraits of college/university students and the unemployed is the one where, due to destitution, the person in question is forced to subsist off packages of ramen noodles (and, okay, maybe beer) for the entirety of their poverty-ridden existence. I have been the girl who considered a chicken sandwich from the dollar menu to be the pinnacle of my expectations for fine dining.

It’s too bad that such a diet is actually counterproductive to being in college – or finding a good job – to begin with.

First of all, one of the major additives in the packet? It’s monosodium glutamate, otherwise known as MSG. Monosodium glutamate is an excitotoxin, which means that it overexcites certain receptors in your brain until they basically can’t take it anymore and decide to kill themselves. For someone already frying their brain with excessive cramming and stress, the end result is – well, I won’t say catastrophic, because there are only a few legitimate scientific studies … oh. Uh. I mean, it’s not like it’ll affect anyone immediately … well, crap.

So what in the world do we impoverished souls consume for nourishment if we actually want to continue functioning as productive members of society? Isn’t MSG in nearly every cheap food ever?

No, not really. In fact, there are whole classes of foods that are extremely inexpensive and completely additive-free: fresh fruits, vegetables, grains, nuts, and legumes.

Speaking from the point of view of someone with a relatively high metabolism, I can tell you that I could probably eat three packages of ramen noodles before scratching the surface of my hunger. Even then, all I’ve really done is told my digestive system to be quiet already by shoving it full of starches and chemicals until it finally complies – for about an hour. Then, I’d be hungry again. Only this time, I’d have that gross bloated feeling because of all the water-sapping sodium, and the fact that three packages of noodles are still chilling in my small intestine. Not to mention the continuing spikes in blood glucose – and the crashes afterward – from eating noodles all day.

Beans and rice are incredibly cheap, and you can make a huge pot of them last a very long time. Recipes for excellent black bean soups are everywhere on the internet – and black beans are good sources of folic acid and B vitamins, which actually improve brain health. Soups and stews are also stock-up foods that stay good for a while after you make them, and depending on how many vegetables and legumes you throw in, they can be high in fiber (the stuff that makes you feel full).

So, to recap:

7 days of eating nothing but packaged ramen (based on a 2,000 calorie diet): 70 packs a week, 1,900 calories a day, 7,700 mg of sodium per day, 35 g of fat per day. $35/week. Pros: cheap, easy to make. Cons: probably neurotoxic, not very filling, may cause some digestive issues in certain people.
7 days of eating nothing but black bean soup (based on a 2,000 calorie diet): 42 cups per week, ~2,100 calories a day, ~2,800 mg of sodium per day,  ~18 g of fat per day. $17.43/week. Pros: cheap, easy to make, good for the brain, lots of fiber. Cons: may cause some digestive issues in certain people.

Really, there’s no contest.

walk before you run … or bike

Image courtesy of hin255 / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

When you’re really passionate about something, it’s incredibly important to know your limits. For instance, the marathon first-day ride I set out to do a few years ago was a great example of sticking my fingers in my ears and going “la-la-la” while my limits flailed around helplessly, starved for attention and likely seeking counsel for neglect. But I had a bicycle, and I was going to use it. Even if it killed me. Really, if you want to be dramatic about the way I felt the next few days, then you could say it nearly did.

I was, back then, about 230 pounds. I was at a point in my life where it was enough of a challenge to extract myself from my computer chair and walk around the block a few times, let alone bike twenty miles to work. I’m pretty sure that burst of ambition was completely guilt-induced – that is, all of a sudden I was in possession of an expensive (to me) gadget that was specifically designed to make my life better, so I had better start using it or think of the starving children in Africa with no bicycles and you should be ashamed of yourself.

This should sound familiar to anyone who has ever purchased a piece of gym equipment as encouragement to get into shape. What should also sound familiar is the fact that it didn’t work – not at all. In fact, it seemed to have the opposite effect: every time I looked at my bicycle after that, I was forcefully reminded of those days I spent writhing in pain, presumably as punishment for even thinking about how good a McGriddle sounded while I was pedalling to my death. And, not surprisingly, that made me somewhat averse to repeating the experience.

See, back then, I wasn’t aware that while limits were made to be stretched, they also exist for a reason. Your body knows how much strain it can handle at once, and it knows how to repair itself – to an extent. For instance, your body will heal a few fibres of torn muscle faster than, say, a whole torn muscle, which will heal faster than a broken bone, which will heal more efficiently than a decapitation. The great thing about muscle fibres? They’re designed to break.

When you use your bare hands a lot, your skin builds up over the heavily-used areas with calluses, making those stronger. It does this because, unless your skin has existential issues, fortifying that area would probably be a good idea if the intent is to continue using them the way you are now. The same strategy applies to your muscles. Except muscles are really good at it. They’re so good at it that they break for fun. If you want to make your muscles happy, break a few of those pesky fibres. Because when they break, new ones are formed that are even stronger than the wimpy fibres you had before. (If you want to be weird, you can think of them as making calluses on the inside.)

It becomes an entirely different matter, though, when you break so many that it’s a full-blown injury. When you have a deep cut on your hand, the scar tissue that forms later is actually weaker than your normal skin, as it’s formed in a shorter period of time and under duress. There’s more pain involved, obviously, and it takes longer to recover. So while I was in bed groaning and berating myself and essentially not moving, my body wasn’t getting stronger – it was recuperating. Not only that, but pain sends a very powerful signal to your brain: if you do this again, you will suffer. And while there is a certain class of people who enjoy that sort of thing (like bodybuilders and Dobby), most of us just want to wear jeans again without our midsections looking like rioting escapees from Denim Prison. Therefore, if you punish yourself every time you do a form of exercise, you probably won’t want to keep doing it. And if you stop exercising, guess what happens to the strong muscle fibres you nearly killed yourself to get? They get weaker still. Which means that yes, you did just torture yourself for no reason, and you’re probably worse off than you were before.

What I figured out this time around is that stretching my physical limits is not the same as punishing myself. In fact, the two are mutually exclusive. What the product hawkers at Super Intensity Gym 5000 won’t tell you is this:  you can do basically anything more than what you’re doing now, and your body will think it’s getting some awesome exercise. My car broke down at around the time I was starting to become more aware of my body’s needs, so this was more of a necessity at first, but the basic gist is the same. Here are the steps I took; I know they won’t work for everyone, but like nearly everything else in this world, they can be tailored to suit your specific body type, location, and ambition.

– If you drive to the store, park toward the back of the lot.

– Drive less. If your city/town has public transit, use that as much as possible, because you’ll end up walking a few blocks from each stop to get where you’re going. (If you have trouble with this step, pray for expensive car trouble during a period of unemployment. That usually helps.)

– If you have a bike, bike more. Start out with little trips to the store and back, or with little errands. I remember how out-of-shape I felt the first ten or twenty times I decided to take my bike on errands that required more than two miles of riding. (Note: Do not bike fifteen miles up a hill to an interview if you’re not used to biking fifteen miles up a hill every day. You will look and smell like a hobo, and you will not get the job.)

– Give yourself new challenges every time you set out. Like, “I’m going to walk three more blocks today to the next bus stop instead of my usual stop.” Or, “I’m going to try biking three miles instead of two.” Or, “I’m going to put groceries in my backpack instead of carrying them on my handlebars.” Once you get used to the idea that anything can be turned into exercise, then exercise starts becoming part of your normal routine.

– If you bike (or walk), find a scenic pathway in your area that you can ride or hike. Double plus if you can picnic there or find a place to read. It’s a reminder that exercise doesn’t always tie itself to a chore, and that getting somewhere is often half the experience. (I hesitate in saying “fun,” because I know for a fact that getting hit in the face by branches or pushing your bike halfway up a hill because you were overconfident in your thighs of steel isn’t fun, but a bit of tasteful bragging to your friends about your newly-found physical prowess kind of is, and in order to keep doing something, you have to remember how you got there in the first place.)

After months of building up the slow way, I take my bike nearly everywhere now – unless I have to save enough money to get a part or buy a new tube (note: if you bike heavily, it may be wise to invest in the super-thick tubes with sealant in them, especially if you live in an area prone to goatheads and/or broken Mad Dog 20/20 bottles). Then I figure out how much time it’ll take to walk somewhere (Google Maps has a “walk” function when you “Get Directions” somewhere; it’s a pretty good estimate for how long it takes the average person to walk from point A to point B. Did you know that if you kept a steady pace and required no sleep or nutrition at all, you could walk from Los Angeles to New York in only 918 hours?? That’s only a month and some change! Wow!), and make sure to set out about fifteen minutes before that in case I get distracted by a butterfly.

What? It was pretty.