has just never stuck—I’d fall off the exercise wagon for weeks, even months, at a time, citing work, travel, illness, or any other excuse I could think of. And then one day, as I lazed on the couch while my husband trotted out the door, looking downright gleeful at the prospect of a good, sweaty run, I realized I didn’t just hate working out; I was also jealous of anybody who seemed to enjoy it, from my husband, a runner and rock-climbing junkie, to every personal trainer I’d ever hired, to every…
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