Last night I did NOT want to work out. I just didn’t want to do it. So, I forced myself to put on my running shoes and headed down to the basement. I still didn’t want to work out. So, I got on the treadmill (yes, the treadmill again), and for the most part did not go any faster than 4mph, most of the time sticking to 3 mph. My goal was to hit 3 miles. I did, although it took me 55 minutes due to the pace I was going. Even up to the very end, I hated working out. Since I did not want to move very quickly, instead I chose to alter the elevation of the treadmill. Every couple minutes I’d move it to 6% then to 8% and then to 10% (the steepest the treadmill will go) and then gradually back down by the same increments. That way I was still working up a sweat in spite of my lack of speed.
Upon finishing the workout, I had a small all-fruit popsicle and a glass of water. I was hungry from absolutely no snacking since eating dinner (it was almost 11pm at this time) and it was hard to ignore my mostly-empty stomach, but I did. Brushed my teeth, picked up a book, and read. Overall, the night was a success–too bad I didn’t enjoy it more. Of course this morning I am happy with myself; most nights if I cave and snack away, I feel frustrated with myself the next day. (The night before last I had a bad night. Never-ending migraine was still there–day 6 of it–so I drank a Coke, snacked on a small bowl of potato chips and found some licorice in the cupboard which I ate. I do NOT like the kind of licorice we had, yet I ate it as though it were going out of style. Blech! I’m blaming that one on hormones!)
Here’s to a new day. Hopefully at some point the motivation will strike and I will want to exercise. They say it takes 2 weeks of consistency for something to become a habit. I am not sure that exercise falls within that range. Last summer I exercised almost every day (changing up my workouts quite a bit) and after 3 MONTHS of that, I fell off the wagon, pretty much never to return. I’m sure some of that is a result of my perfectionistic tendencies–once I was off the wagon, I just gave up–but you’d think if it was a habit, it would have outweighed a bad day or two. It really only became a habit for me to *think* about exercise and how I was NOT doing it anymore. Sometimes I feel like the only one who cycles through the exercise world like this. I would love to become one of those people who loves exercising and looks forward to it, but so far that has yet to happen. So often it seems that people stick with it. Or they don’t, but they don’t seem to care, and don’t make it a priority, therefore it doesn’t bother them if they don’t work out.
This will be my 3rd attempt at consistent exercise. The first attempt, 2 years ago, was going well. We had a membership at the Y and I’d go there to walk, use a couple of their machines that we don’t have at home, and do some weight-training. But then I suddenly became pregnant (2 years post DH’s vasectomy!), and allowed that to be my excuse to take it easy and eat more. Around 12 weeks, I learned the baby had died. What do I do when something stresses me out like that? Bad stress initially saps my appetite and desire to eat entirely…but it’s short-lived. After that, I eat food for comfort. And if you lose a baby, you know that you desire comfort for a long time. Fast forward to last summer when I was again doing so well at exercising and eating right. We had a week-long family vacation in early August that kind of threw a bump in the road–I didn’t do any “real” exercise while there; at least nothing that caused me to break a sweat. Came home, started up again, didn’t enjoy it (again), and once the school year started, that was the end of that. Maybe the 3rd time is the charm! We shall see…