I had a talk with a friend where I shared my fear of getting "started" exercising. It's been months. I've put anything and everything else first and did my best to avoid any sort of personal care.
I've used many excuses and that are both creative and pathetic at the same time.
- I didn't get enough sleep - I'm too tired.
- I got too much sleep - I'm too tired.
- It's too cold
- It's too hot
- I'm too busy
- The path will be too busy
- Henry will be bored
The list goes on and on.
Anyhow, as I said, I've been afraid to "start". She suggested that I don't "start" but instead I just go out to exercise for one day. One day at a time. Why not? It's worked for me in the past. It was the perfect suggestion (i.e. it worked!)
Last Tuesday morning I laced up my sneakers, packed up Henry with a few toy trains and a snack and hit the road. I started out with an intense feeling of dread and anticipation that it was going to be hard. I was right. It was. I was huffing and puffing. To make matters worse, I could feel my flab bouncing up and down as I ran up the street. I was hoping that my neighbors were sleeping in that morning and that my jogging did not trigger any seismic activity.
I made it up to the running path. It's flat so I was relieved to get there. My thighs were burning but I was pleased I got this far, so I felt a little encouraged. I was still struggling, but I started to see some familiar faces. Mostly the senior citizens in our neighborhood who use the path for their morning walks. One older gentleman waved to me and called out "How are you? Where have you been?". Great, I thought. At least the geriatric community of Burbank has missed me. Secretly I was pleased that someone noticed. My ego is amazing.
I started to feel like I was getting into a rhythm and felt like I was picking up the pace. Apparently my son noticed too because he kept yelling "Faster Mommy, Faster!!!". I yell back "OK sweetie, I'm doing the best I can!" I'm not sure why I needed to explain myself to a 2-year old, but I did. With my 32 pound personal trainer calling out encouragement from his stroller, I made it through the rest of the run.
3.2 miles. Not exactly a marathon, but I'll take it. One day at a time.
3 comments:
Way to go Alima!
Ok, now give me that talk your friend gave you.
Help.
L, L
I love reading your blog, your writing keeps me interested and you so funny too. That's why u my frien!
I'm so proud of you! I know how hard it is to get back into it! If you ever want to run together...let me know!
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