Virtuous hedonism

Today I had a random long meeting scheduled for my usual gym time, but I came in early and got it done. Look at me, patting myself on the back!

I did want to keep it short, so I did 30 minutes of soul-destroying intervals: 5 minutes warm up, 2 minutes at omg-gonna-die pace, 3 minutes recovery, repeat fast and recovery parts until done. I’m excited that my omg-gonna-die pace is faster than it used to be, but it’s still darn hard and the last interval was brutal. I finished up the workout overheated and a little over-extended, so my nose has been running. (That was fun during the meeting; everyone must’ve thought I have the plague that’s been going around. But I was thinking ahead and brought enough kleenex, at least.) I’ve also got a headache now…

Afterwards, in the locker room, one of the locker room ladies asked me if I felt “virtuous” now that my workout was done. I replied, “Nah… I mostly feel–” pause for dramatic effect– “tired.”

But really, I try not to attach morality to working out. In fact, in my mind it’s a bit selfish, even– I enjoy it a lot, and prioritize it pretty highly and will move stuff around to get it done. However, the fact that other people attach positive morality to me spending time in the gym is helpful– for instance, my boss has never given me a hard time for taking a chunk of every morning to do it (of course, I still work my required hours, and stay later). I guess since I’m fat, folks think I need an “atta girl” for going to the gym– even though I’m going because I think it’s the most fun I have all day.

Fitness isn’t a moral issue, and health isn’t a moral imperative, so my workouts are enjoyable and absolutely morally neutral.

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