I think I have S.A.D.
Granted, I'm not much of an outdoor person. Not that you could go outside and play when the wind chill will knock you unconscious. On the sunny, warm summer days when there's a light breeze and the scent of freshly-mowed lawn fills my nose, there's nothing finer than enjoying all that through the open window behind my computer monitor. I do, occasionally, venture out, but I find it difficult to do so when, shielding my sight with my hand as the tears squeeze out of the corners of my blinded eyes, Brother stops what he's doing outside and declares, "Wow, I didn't know skin could be that white." I hate the sun, or at least the being directly in it. My legs resemble the color of those cave-dwelling, blind salamanders; devoid of all pigment. Toothpaste has a healthier glow.
I've never really enjoyed anything athletic. Marching Band was my only extracurricular activity in high school. The most exercise you'd get is the 12 minute run-through at the end of rehearsal and the occasional run-the-perimeter of the football field for running your mouth constantly (not me...much). By joining band, I got to go places, learn a little discipline, develop some personal pride, be a part of something bigger than myself, and sure, get outside some. However, during the two weeks in August for Band Camp, it felt like I had been abandoned in the desert on some forced march. I tried gymnastics at a very young age. Too flip-floppy. Soccer later on...I swear to you, the rest of the girls were HUGE DUDES. I didn't really like either.
I always tell people I was built for comfort, not speed. I like yoga and pilates, but not weight lifting or cardio. In fact, if you mention the word "exercise" in front of me, I will likely stab you with a spoon. My idea of enjoying a summer day is stretched out in my hammock in our three-season porch, reading a book (or at least the first few pages) until I doze off.
My attitude about "outside" seems to have changed over the last summer. I think it started with the purchase of my motorcycle a couple of years ago, or maybe it was the yoga classes I signed up for a year ago, but I think it was the purchase late last summer of my sweet, sweet beach cruiser that may have turned the tide. The local supply of Ben & Jerry's and Dove ice cream is two or three blocks away at the gas station. Hey, if you bicycle to the place to buy the ice cream, it negates any and all calories and/or fat grams. So sayeth I. After buying the bicycle, I ended up riding around Eau Claire 30 miles one day with Mostly Naked. Offroad too. Then there's the semi-annual "tubing" that we do on the Chippewa River when my mom comes up to visit. I say "tubing" because it's really, "The river's so slow, we're actually moving upriver, and Kuj's attention span is only good for two hours, so she pulls the four laziest of family members downstream." I'm canoeing next time, you f**kers.
Getting back to the S.A.D., I try to sit in the sun in the big picture window when it's out, though these days the sun is purely decorative. I even resolved to steal my dad's snowshoes and go tramping around the Lowes Creek County Park where Brother and Mostly Naked like to hit trees with their bicycles in the summer. But this year, the weather has been so commonly below the normal range for this area, that I just really can't bring myself to want to go out except to the mailbox on the house right near the front door to get my Netflix.
But I can't wait to go off-road on my sweet, sweet beach cruiser with the boys. I'm going to buy one of those GPS trackers so they can come back hours later and try to find me. Maybe I should bring somebody with me to eat, in case I don't get rescued right away. Or has that become too trendy?