I don't do "bored."
in fact, I tend to have little patience with people who state that they're bored.
but then . . .
then there are those times in spin class or riding laps through sugarhouse park, or on the elliptical machine when I find myself constantly checking in with the clock, willing it to move more quickly through those interminable minutes . . .
so to be completely honest I must admit that I, too, have moments of boredom. such moments arise because of activity that is "wearingly dull, repetitive, or tedious" (per thefreedictionary.com ). which state, try as I might to avoid this, some of my exercising still tends to slip me into. during these moments I just want it to be done. over with. finished. complete. crossed off my list.
monday I rode outside in the chilly pre-storm atmosphere. clouds moved steadily across the valley, breaking for twenty minutes to let the sun shine down, then closing back in and helping me prepare mentally for the incoming rain and snow. I had decided I needed a recovery ride, just a mild, easier ride, as I hadn't had one of those in a long, long time. perhaps that would reinvigorate me, or at the least just be something kind to do for my body.
the thought of riding out south along 23rd east wasn't so much boring as it was frustrating: too many stop signs and stoplights along that route. if I'm going to ride, I want to ride, not to play a game of ride-and-stop, ride-and-stop. therefore I chose to do laps at sugarhouse park. I put in a few miles around the neighborhood here first, so that I wouldn't have to do too many of those potentially semi-monotonous laps, then headed down to the park.
the first lap was fun. the road dips and swoops back up, moves smoothly for a distance, and then does it again, all in an approximately 1 1/2 mile loop. the second lap was okay as well, as I concentrated on keeping my heart rate down on the "ups," which is always a challenge for me.
then another cyclist entered the loop, which was fine on her warm-up lap ~ when I passed her ~ but not so fine when she later decided to zip past me. I wanted to stay with her, but I had committed to playing the recovery heartrate game, and knew I would blow it if I let myself get in that competitive mode.
I let her go.
the fourth lap started to wear on me. I kept riding past the same walkers, joggers, and roller bladers as before, and by this time knew all of the dogs I would pass: oh, here come the two yorkies, oh, next it's the big golden retriever, oh, now it's time for the beagle . . . and now I'm coming up on the yorkies again, and then it's the retriever . . .
I was amazed by how many people talked on their cell phones while they were walking. I think that I wouldn't do that, but then, maybe they became bored walking that lap again and again. I think I'll be empathetic.
the fifth and sixth laps blurred, and then I had no idea how many darn times I'd gone around the thing.
one more, I said to myself, then I can head home. just one.
okay, one more, just in case it's less mileage home than I thought.
I wanted desperately to pull out of the park and turn up the street, in fact my bike was urging me in that direction, but my darn, stubborn, unreasonable left shoulder forced me around the curve to the left that led me to one more lap.
I was nearly ecstatic when I completed that last little ridiculous loop and turned out of the park and back into civilization, through the streets, weaving my way back toward home where I could move on with my day and leave any thoughts of boredom far behind.
because, as I said, I don't do bored.