That’s right, I said it.

I’ve tried it so many times. Wake up early, climb onto the exercise bike, go for a run, jump on the elliptical, go box out my frustrations in the shed, follow an intense workout plan designed to “shred abs” and the like.

It lasts for a while – until I stop feeling the motivation, the buzz of energy, the smug satisfaction that comes with saying, “Yeah, I workout.”

Eventually it fizzles out, and it fizzles out every time without fail. Maybe I’m just not diciplined enough, don’t have enough muchness. But  what I think it really comes down to is that no matter how hard I try, none of this exercise is ever fun. And now, I’ve decided to stop trying, at least for now.

I just came inside from a game of backyard soccer with Boo, on the freshly mowed lawn. Running around, laughing, breathing hard, a soccer ball between my feet.

This is the sort of exercise I love and live for. No schedule, no obligation, no boredom. Just a backyard, a soccer ball, and a cool afternoon.

Fun. Play. Physical activity that won’t suck in a week’s time.

I’m giving up the regimented, Pinterest-perfect, militant exercise. What I’m not giving up is the joy of a run-around that is synonymous with serenity.