Of course I have many very un-chic habits – camping for one is particularly unglamorous – and another is running. I just finished reading Anne Barone’s Chic & Slim book and loved it, but apparently French women don’t like sport. Well, vive la difference! I’ve been running on and off for years, but lately it’s been more on than off and I have to admit, while it’s always difficult (to get out of bed and put on my running shoes) and often painful (on the ego when running with the daughters or the husband), I’ve come to look forward to it. I also believe that for me it’s part of a healthy lifestyle and adds to my personal joie de vivre.
I don’t live in a bustling, urban city where walking and climbing endless flights of stairs to get to my apartment is part of my fitness regime, however I do walk when and where I can – to the market and the downtown area a few blocks away – and while highly enjoyable, this is really negligible exercise compared with dashing out my front door and running for a few miles. Instead of the views of the Eiffel Tower, baroque buildings and cobbled streets, my vistas include a landmark mountain, a gold-medal fishing river and dirt paths remarkably free of doggy-doo (not so in France or Germany, even on those cobbles).
While the French woman has her gigantic and beloved Paris to entertain her visually, keep her spirits lifted, and her waist trim, I need to make other arrangements. So while I may be sweaty and wearing the most un-chic shoes and clothes, I must do what I must to get my daily dose of visual nourishment, stay off the anti-depressants and keep the fat monster in check.
