Days Ran consecutively – 9
Miles ran today – 1
Total Miles – 13.8
Yesterday was a sick day. Was feeling bleh heading into work, and was feeling much worse as I was getting ready to leave. Knew I was going to skip the run, felt so bad. Funny thing happened on the way to the car. I was at the point in the lot where I could either turn left towards my car, or turn right towards the gym.
Before my brain could even rationalize not exercising, I found myself moving to the right, and eventually walking up to the gym. Shrugging, I figured, why not? Went ahead with some weights and a relaxed mile on the treadmill. The rest of the evening was pretty awful, but some nyquil and 11 hours of sleep does a pretty good job of clearing out a bug.
They say that it’s best to motivate by inspiring oneself, not deriding oneself. Now, that’s something I’ve always struggled with. I’m the harshest critic I know, but only when it comes to me. Sometimes I wish I could give myself the type of tolerance and understanding that I tend to allow for other people.
That got me to thinking though. I’ve responded real well to just a couple weeks of intermittent weight training and consistent exercise. My muscle memory is real, as already I’m seeing some pop to my muscles that I shouldn’t be seeing so quickly. It’s encouraging. I really think my body craves these types of actions.
Out of all my goals, being fit (and weighing less) has been a constant. I’ve always wished I was more in shape or looked better. Now, I’m unrealistically harsh on myself, and where I see a doughy mass of bleh, I know people would bristle to hear me voice it out loud. I know that it’s not rational, but unfortunately, that doesn’t stop the mindset. That’s always been a huge hurdle that knocks me back. My view of myself and the fit version of me that I idealize.
So I think I want to get as fit as possible. Exercise daily. Actually shoot for this goal, and set all others on the backburner. Really make this my focus. I’m not delusional, and I don’t think that all my problems will go away if I lose weight. I can be just as anxious, depressed, and self conscious at 200lbs as I can at 250lbs. It won’t automatically make me happier.
But it is a goal that I’ve always wanted. I enjoy moving my body around. I enjoy lifting weights. I love the feeling of sore muscles. Why shouldn’t I go for this? The amount of dedication it will take will be tough, but I like to think that if I can overcome this hurdle, that every single step of the way will be easier. I could hang my hat on the fact that I took the time and dedicated myself to a singular purpose, something I don’t think I can lay claim to at this point in time.
Every time I’ve stuck with exercise enough to where I’ve seen some positive changes, everything else slowly becomes easier as well. I find it easier to socialize, as the voice in my head saying that “I’m unworthy of their company, am too boring, etc.” fades into the background. I find writing easier, as the critic in me turns off to allow the creative part of me to flourish.
All these things can come from exercise. I choose to finally inspire myself, and in doing so, hopefully the self critique will subside.