After six days of inertia I bullied myself to the Y last weekend. The pattern unfolded as it always does: the workout nearly killed me, but after chatting with a few friends and getting a nice shower, I felt jacked up and superior, but serenely, like an Olympian. On the way home, I sang to myself, This is wonderful! Why don?t I do this EVERY day?? I was feeling fabulous- fatigued in the muscles but energetic and strong - and ready to commit to doing some sort of exercise every day, as all of the experts advise. Definitely! I?ll do weights, cardio, yoga! Without fail!
But my resolve dissolved, and as several more days went by I sat parked like a dead Chevy. My first excuse was that the Y was closed for Labor Day. Then my mother came to visit, and I told myself that it would not be daughterly or hospitable for me to leave her home alone while I pampered and enjoyed myself. Moreover, the girls would be starting school soon, and I needed time to help them organize their rooms and get ready for classes. Plus, it was hot and humid! I sat and sat, and still I sit.
The further I march toward dotage, the more I see that taking even just a few days off from the gym seems to make it harder, and therefore more necessary, to start up again. After only a few days of slacking, the clothes tighten, the belly expands and droops and jiggles like a waterbed, a southerly spare tire arises out of my indolence. But more importantly, my mood sinks as well when I don?t exercise. I slow down, crave more sleep, become a little bit crankier and more negative, watch more TV, and eat more Scoops. This is unnecessary and unpleasant. But it?s so hard to break the cycle.
I have vowed to do better. Tomorrow. I will get back in the routine again; I will reform. Do I sound like a junkie?
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