It is a semi-snow day. That means there is 8" outside my door (and I live in the mid-atlantic, so we aren't hardy.) Schools are closed but workplaces graciously allowed us to use leave. Or telework. I picked leave because I didn't want to spend the day worrying about whether I was working hard enough.
Yes, I should fix that problem.
After three visits to the frigid windy out-of-doors to shovel out my car. And a path to my car. And the lumps of sodden detrius (snowius?) that the plow left in an attempt to shovel my car in. (In between the last two I got a better hat and ate a bowl of potato-cheddar soup.) I finally finished, laughingly asking myself if I could count that shoveling as exercise.
Gob-smacked I realized that it is exercise. That wet snow at the end of a lever counts as moving a weight. That doing it swiftly and getting out of breath counts as aerobic activity. Well golly gee, why am I minimizing my actual work by laughing at myself.
Sheesh. I hate that. But at least I figured it out. Everything counts. Running up six steps to get the mail counts. Carrying groceries counts. It's all work. Maybe if I stop calling it exercise, it won't seem so trivial.