I don’t like to stretch. I don’t like the time it takes after a workout. I certainly don’t like yoga, with its inexhaustible list of poses that need to be held for what feels like an hour each!
Oh, I’m passingly familiar with some of the many excellent reasons why I SHOULD stretch – that it somehow aids in the recovery process after a workout and builds stronger muscles and such – but I’m lazy… especially AFTER a workout. I just want to shower, and then plop down on the sofa to watch some mindless telly.
Junkii tells me to think of it like flossing. Nobody LIKES to floss…except maybe weirdos. Or S&M fetishists. (and no, I’m not lumping those two together.) I certainly don’t enjoy it, but I do it anyway… almost every day, because I want to keep my teeth. But it’s a weak analogy, in my opinion, because flossing takes, what, two minutes? Three if you’ve had corn on the cob. You can’t even stretch one hamstring in that time!
Nope. Proper stretching will eat up a minimum of 30 minutes; more like an hour. That’s time I could spend at home relaxing!
But I’m getting older. I turned 41 this year and senior citizenship seems a lot closer than it used to. I don’t want to get to be a senior and not be able to bend over my front stoop in my bathrobe and slippers to pick up the newspaper that the pesky neighbourhood delivery boy threw wide right into my prize begonia patch. Lousy, no good…mumblemumble.
You get the point. I want to stay limber well into my old age.
So now I need to commit – before I get too old – to doing a proper stretch after each workout. Yay (sarcasm alert)… more time at the gym.
Sigh. Just don’t ask me to do fucking yoga.