Hanz or Franz, I am not.

I’ve always been a pretty active person.

When I was a younger man, I played soccer and tennis in an organized fashion for many years, participating in the latter at a Division III college as a freshman and sophomore. I dabbled in baseball as a youth, Club Hockey in college and extracurricular basketball until I busted my face on vacation this August.

My love of sports and taking part in them has fueled my lust for life, but one thing that I cannot stand is the most basic, natural form of exercise, and that is running. I’ve just never liked it.

Invite me to a competitive contest a few times a week and I’m right there with you, but unless I’m chasing after a ball, puck, another man (hold the jokes) or have some sort of equipment in my hand (again with the jokes), I just don’t see the point. Running for the sake of running, to me, is as boring as watching paint dry... which is why it is so damn difficult to go the gym after work.

Let me back-track for just a second: before this spring, I could count on one hand the amount of times I stepped foot in an organized, all-under-one-roof fitness facility. Weight benches, treadmills, spinning machines, men walking around flexing their heads while wearing cut-off sweatpants -- I just didn’t find paying money to see these things a necessity.

I’ve been on this Earth for over 28 years, and I think I’ve done pretty well so far. Sure, I could firm up the abs that rest snuggly under my 1-pack, but I’ve been hovering around the same weight for about 10 years. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, am I right?

Apparently not.

Earlier this year, the lady-friend in my life suggested we join the gym together, and rather than fight it, I decided to cave. I recognized the fact that it may be a good idea, and I even thought that I could get used to the whole working-out thing.

It started off well, as endeavors like this often do, but eventually it fizzled. It turns out that, unfortunately, I lack what many people would call “motivation.”

Instead of ending the work day on a high note, more often than not I drive right past the gym, head home and stare at the moving pictures on the television screen and surf the interwebs.

But no more!

Despite my hatred of any and all forms of solo exercise, I am succumbing to the guilt that, if I don’t take advantage, I’m essentially throwing away $40 a month. Joe Trainer convinced me when I signed up that the new Ab-pec-quad-lat-bicep-o-rama 2000 was totally worth my hard-earned money, and dammit, he’s right.

So wish me luck, America, as I embark on a journey to rid my body of any and all bad things. Now if only there was a way to make chicken nuggets not so damn tasty...