I’m quickly slipping back into a state of chronic fatigue. I’m tired all day at work, and as soon as I get home I crawl into bed with a book and almost always fall asleep. I don’t sleep long because Brad gets home or something else happens to rip me from my fantasy life where all I do is sleep and read and never have to be productive. And no matter how much I nap or how early I go to bed, I’m inevitably devising a way to crawl under my desk and sleep for a few hours at work the next day.

Last time I felt this way, I determined that I needed more energy. How would I get more energy? I’d sign up for a personalized fitness class at the college and start working out on a regular basis of course! Brad even signed up too, and for about a month we visited the gym about twice a week. We started out lifting weights and walking the treadmill and riding the stationary bikes. Soon we were settling for a few laps around the gym and 10 minutes on the bike. Before long we found ourselves playing ping-pong or bouncing giant balls around and calling it a workout.

This was not working.

Eventually the workouts fizzled out and we never went back. He still plays volleyball a couple times a week, but I mostly dream of the moment I can be back in bed and stop forcing my eyes to be open. I was fine for awhile, I felt good and wasn’t as tired all the time. But. It’s baa-aack.

So Brad has this idea that we’re going to start working out again. He’s says there’s some place in town that’s $35 to sign up and $10 a month after that. Here’s an approximation of the conversation that followed, which clearly illustrates my apprehension at the benefits of forced physical activity:

B: We’ll just go a few times a week after work
S: But see, at 5:00 all I want to do is come home and sleep, not work out.
B: That’s why you need to work out, to get more energy.
S: If I come home and get even a little bit comfortable, I won’t want to leave again. I don’t even like going out to get something to eat once I’m home.
B: But if we start working out, we’ll get in a rhythm and it won’t be so hard.
S: Is this a ploy to tell me I’m fat? ‘Oh we’ll work out. Together.”
B: I’m sure. No.
S: Well we tried this before and it didn’t work. The thought of working out made me even more tired. It made me wish for my bed, not wish to walk on a treadmill and stare at the wall for 30 minutes.
B: This will be different because it’s not at your work. You get leave, come home, then go work out.
S: Well I’m not paying money to do something I hate.
B: I’ll pay for you for two months, and if you still hate it, you can quit. Just do it with me for two months.
S: I need pants. I don’t want to work out with my fat thighs hanging all out. I don’t want to have to buy new clothes for something I hate. It’s like skiing. I will never again pay money to rent skiis and boots and poles. Because I HATE skiing. And I HATE working out. Are you gonna buy me pants too?
B: [after some hesitation] Fine I’ll buy you pants too.
S: How many days a week?
B: Three
S: What three? You’re busy Monday and Wednesday, and we’re gone a lot on the weekends so Friday, Saturday and Sunday are out. That only leaves two days.
B: Well we’ll work it out somehow.
S: Work it out to work out? Ha!
B: [not amused] So are we doing this?
S: We’ll see.

I’m kind of hoping my energy finds its way back to me before I have to make a decision about this. If the energy comes back, then he won’t have any reason to say I should go. I would get free pants out of it though, and I did see some cute workout pants at Target the other day…