You know you need more exercise when you start leaving an indent on your TV couch, or your toilet seat creaks, cracks and threatens to collapse when you sit on it.

Coincidentally, this is about how my exercise regime started.

One fine day, while sitting on the throne of thrones and staring at the wall it occurred to me that I haven’t broken a sweat exercising for as long as I can remember. Of course, if you count sweating while looking for the misplaced TV remote or wrestling that frozen leg of lamb from the icy clutches of the freezer, I’ve sweated a lot. Barely exercise in the conventional sense, I know.

Also, if walking from the kitchen to the sofa – carrying a bag of chips – can be considered as a form of exercise and be deemed an achievement, then I’m an over achiever. I tend to do that a lot.

So there I was, staring at a bleak future of obesity and a generally unhealthy but relaxed lifestyle. Then and there, amidst the ever so inspiring sounds and smells of the lavatory, I made up my mind to start exercising.

Signalling a new beginning, I started lifting my legs in mocking gym movements. What better way to pump up the adrenaline? Almost as soon as I started, I had to stop. Shock waves from the flabby slaps of my thighs almost cracked the toilet seat … talk about potentially compromising situations.

Quickly recovering from a most frightening second where I thought that I’d surely be swallowed whole by the crapper, I did the necessary and marched out to look for my exercise gear. Stopping dead in my tracks, I march straight back in to wash my hands. After all, can’t be having dirty hands when trying to get all healthy.

Luckily my jogging shoes were still intact. Never should have doubted, really. I mean, when you don’t use them at all there is very little chance that it will be worn down now, is there? No fungus on the outside, no mice droppings on the inside. Great!

Now, what to wear?

Wait a minute, have I decided what kind of exercise I want to do? Since I have jogging shoes, just makes sense to go jogging. What else can I do anyways? It’s not like I have friends who I can call up on a whim and race down to the badminton or tennis courts. So jogging it is then. Second best exercise to walking, or so I’ve heard.

Tracksuit bottom? Check. Baggy t-shirt? Check. Face towel, socks, water bottle? Check, check and check!

All fired up and set to go, a glance out the window and … wonder if it’s safe to jog in the rain? It’s not like I’m wearing a metal cap. A wooden head, maybe … one in a million chance of being struck by lightning. Problem is, one in a million odds would probably be fine when you are one of a million people daring (read: dumb) enough to be jogging in the rain. But when you are the only one out there in the elements, the odds sound more like a million against one!

Oh well, I’m sure exercise can wait. I’ve made it this far without falling dead walking from my front door to the sofa, from there to the bed and from there to the door. Rinse and repeat as they say … exercise can come another day.

Note: The Author did start jogging the next day, in a slight drizzle, after the remote control to the TV mysteriously disappeared. Rumour has it a much tortured toilet seat swallowed it whole …