May 10th
I slept through two possible gym days. Each of those mornings I laid there and told myself it was okay. I told myself I was tired and that I needed sleep. Unfortunately I didn’t seem to value my sleep the night before when I stayed up late, though Sunday night I had a good excuse, having been by the hospital bedside of my Grandma, but Monday night, no good excuse existed. Wednesday morning I did not hear my alarm and slept through my gym class, but I still woke up early enough to go to the gym before the kids woke up, yet I laid there and found myself debating, like I always do, whether or not I would in fact get up or if I would just lay there instead, and quit, because that’s frankly what I’ve done every time before that I had set out on a fitness journey.
So I debated with myself the merits of getting up, whether I was going to just quit or if I had the staying power to keep going, even if I’ve faltered. I think I do that every morning, but it’s worse after I’ve actually missed a few days.
You see, in my life, I have spent too much time worrying about my own comfort level, and have not put enough energy into learning how to keep going.
*Updated and Posting:
I found this unfinished blog post in my drafts pile. I’m sad that I have gotten back to where I am now. I loved being that active, when I really got going. I loved how I felt, the confidence I had, the skills I was learning, everything, even the exercises I hated doing. But I let that slip away. So, I’ll have to start reading my posts from when I was working out, to remind myself of the me I was when I was going to the gym. I like her. She’s pretty cool. And she has cool friends. Crazy gym friends, but cool, crazy gym friends.
But this is meant to be an inspirational post because I did make the choice to get up on Wednesday, Thursday, but not Friday because my husband was working an extra shift that lasted till after my gym time, but then Saturday I got up and kicked it again before he went off to work.
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mammabrown8081 