This is about my many heated, volatile, passionate, wild, irrational, mixed emotions… about working out.
If you’re wondering, what?! Don’t worry. I’ll explain.
I love it. I love exercising. It’s the best way for me to kick stress. It feels good. It’s fun, It’s exciting. It does fantastic things for my mental well being as well as my physical. Seriously, it does it all. It’s great. The endorphin rush is worth writing home about. It’s fantastic!
But here’s the thing… despite all that, and knowing what’s waiting for me on the other side… I still have to drag myself off the couch, grumbling and complaining most days… because, well, I don’t wanna!
But I do! But I don’t! — Now isn’t that something?
I was thinking about it yesterday while working out. Right smack in the middle of some jumping jacks, I was like, Oh yeah!! Best decision I’ve made all day baby!!!! (I may or may not have said this out loud.) (I did it. I said it out loud. With an embarrassing amount of enthusiasm, too.)
Anyway, my mind went back to when it took me an hour, a full hour, to convince myself to get up and work out. I literally grumbled all the way to the closet to change. Then all the way to the laundry room to get my shoes. Then I sat on the couch for an hour, reading a book, with my tennis shoes on, trying to convince myself to get up. I grumbled as I put on music, and huffed with great annoyance during the first few minutes of exercising. However, halfway through, there I was shouting all sorts of ridiculous stuff because I felt fantastic!
And I thought, why in the world did I fight myself so hard? Why is it so difficult to get up and get started when I know I’m going to be incredibly grateful when it’s all said and done?
Isn’t it wild how that works? And maybe that’s just a me thing. For all I know I’m the only person in the world who does this. It’s like the lazy, unmotivated part of me is like, no. I don’t want to. Leave me alone. But the slightly more disciplined, wiser part of me is like, Yes. Get up. Now! You lazy couch potato! — And round and round we go.
It’s funny, it was easier when I was losing weight a couple years ago. Because every week I’d see a pound/pound and a half drop and that was all the motivation I needed to keep at it. I had way less days where I didn’t want to. Plus it was new, and that made it more fun. Now that all the extra weight is gone, and the new has worn off, I have to fight to stay more disciplined. Which is strange, given I know if I don’t exercise enough I’m a grumpy, antagonistic, much more anxious, I-will-bite-your-head-off-for-looking-at-me kind of person. (And nobody wants that! — Just ask my husband… 😉 )
So there’s a little look into my love/hate relationship with working out. I really do love it. It’s changed my entire life for the better. But I still have to fight a part of me that’s like, I would rather not, thank you. Crazy, huh?
Maybe not. Maybe you can relate. I don’t know. If you can, you know what I’m talking about. We can commiserate together. If you can’t, well, gimme some of what you got!
I’ll see y’all later. I have to go workout.