Leber: A little bit about my fear of the C-word

Commitment can be a scary thing.

Take me, for example, because I'm obviously really, really interesting. (That was sarcasm right there. Hard to read tone in print, I know.)

I recently made a commitment to exercise more. In my case, "more" translates to "at all" -- unless typing and cooking can be counted as exercise.

But the things they say about your 30s -- your metabolism slowing down, and all that -- are true. The few times I've actually braved the scale in the last few months the numbers have been going up, and that makes me less than thrilled.

But I want to be healthy, blah blah blah; and if I'm being honest, I want to look good, too. I want to be fit and sexy, and I want my partner to get smug masculine satisfaction out of other men's jealousy.

So I have to exercise. The problem is, I hate exercising. It makes me sweaty and sore and out of breath. These are not pleasant feelings. I loathe the gym. It's too hot to be outside. And yoga's nice in theory, but I'm just not a namaste kind of girl.

But I made a commitment. I bought a DVD my cousin recommended (read: lovingly bullied me into getting), and I've promised myself I will do it three times weekly.

It's absolutely hideous. It involves three women in midriff tops saying awful, awful words such as "squat" and "lunge" and "press." The only good part is when it ends. All of you people who claim to love working out: I think you're insane. It's painful. I want to quit every single time.

But again, I made a commitment. And I wish I could honestly say that was enough to keep me going, but it's not. Left to my own devices, I'd stop after 10 minutes.

But he-who-has-made-a-commitment-to-me keeps me going. He doesn't let me quit, despite my incessant whining and hurling of obscenities at the screen. I don't always appreciate it in the moment, but he will kick my out-of-shape derriere into action. And if I need him to, Joe will pick up my two-pound, pink, girly hand weights and do horrid, evil things called reverse lunges alongside me.

He's pretty great about encouraging me and believing in me. I'm no commitment-phobe, but one thing I'm not brave about is making commitments to do things for myself; whether it's to exercise more, or to actually take on a new venture like writing a book or learning to rock climb or crochet. He has the same problem sometimes. It often seems easier to believe in each other than it is to believe in ourselves.

A fear of commitment is most often thought of as a fear of committing to another person. But just as crippling can be the fear of committing to oneself, to actually putting an effort into doing something you really want to do, even if it isn't easy. What's the saying, nothing worthwhile is ever easy?

Over the years, Joe and I have developed a loving and supportive partnership. There were many, many times when it wasn't easy. It has always been worthwhile, though. His commitment is not just to us, as a couple, but to me, as an individual. He encourages (and yes, also sometimes lovingly bullies) me to do things I don't always believe I can do.

Like write a book. Or learn to crochet. Or do horrid, evil reverse lunges.

Contact Holly Leber at hleber@timesfreepress.com or 423-757-6391. Follow her on Twitter at twitter.com/ hollyleber.

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