This is the year I get it all together. My poop will be in a group. I will be healthier, more active, more productive. What better day than the first day of school to start a new habit, new routine, NEW LIFESTYLE. It’s time to exercise!
A new beginning – but ABSOLUTELY NO PRESSURE. There can be no stress because this is fun and easy and SO GOOD FOR ME.
I had it all planned out:
I would get up early and put my workout clothes on, thereby telling myself that there is no turning back – we’re doing this thing. I would make the boys’ lunches, take first day pictures, hoist their backpacks onto their backs (first day backpacks are the WORST,) and wave as they headed off to school.
Then, I would take my already compression-shorts-clad booty downstairs to the treadmill and walk for 45 minutes. Just me, walking.
No running yet because, well… I can’t remember the last time I got on the treadmill.
I think it might have been when I resolved to jump on the treadmill every morning LAST YEAR once the boys were back in school. My get-up-and-go evaporated, though, so I folded up the treadmill one day, pushed it against the wall, and it has stayed there ever since.
If I tried to run, I would probably end up in the emergency department. So walking it is; walking is good.
I got up with the alarm. I put my running-clothes-that- will-be-used-for-walking on, made lunches, took pictures, and said goodbye to the boys.
And then… I made a cup of coffee.
I HAD to post the first day of school pictures to Facebook, right? So, I figured, I might as well have a cup of coffee while I do that.
And then… And then I saw that I was talking myself out of following through with my plan. Like always.
I thought about the bathroom that needs cleaning, the dishes in the sink, the laundry piled up downstairs. Surely if I did all those things, it adds up to a workout, right?
That’s what I tried to tell myself, but I know it’s not true. It’s not the same as moving my body without interruption, letting my mind wander and meander in a way it doesn’t at any other time. Carrying a load of laundry upstairs doesn’t make me stand a little taller. Cleaning the bathroom (even the dreaded bathtub,) doesn’t make me feel the tiniest bit stronger when I finish. Although it does often make me want to take a shower – so there’s that.
I feel better, I feel stronger and more energized after I exercise. So why do I let myself make excuses and back out?
No more; I’m doing this thing. The bathroom, the dishes, the laundry – and thankfully, the coffee – will still be there when I trudge back upstairs.
If you don’t hear from me for a while, I might have fallen off the treadmill from lack of practice, or it has malfunctioned from shock after having been ignored for so long. Send help.