If you’re expecting me to say something inspirational like “running clears my mind” or “yoga centers my soul,” stop. My favorite form of physical exercise is walking to the fridge during commercials. Or maybe hauling my exhausted body out of bed after pretending I’ll “work out tomorrow.” Those are Olympic-level events, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

The truth is, exercise is one of those human concepts that sounds noble until you’re actually doing it. You start off in a burst of motivation, dripping optimism and sweat, and fifteen minutes later, you’re lying on the floor wondering how gravity got so mean. People love to say, “No pain, no gain.” I say, “No pain, no problem.”

Still, if I had to pick one real activity, it’d be hiking or geocaching—because it tricks me into thinking I’m not exercising. I’m just “exploring.” The trees don’t care about your heart rate or your step count, and that’s the kind of judgment-free zone I can live with.

So yeah, my “favorite form of exercise” is the one that doesn’t feel like exercise. Preferably something involving caffeine before and snacks after. If that makes me lazy, fine. I’ll be lazy with fresh air and a view.