Talking Myself In and Out of Everything
You know, it’s funny. I waver through this whole journey every single day, every single second of every day.
This weekend found me bouncing back and forth between being proud of my food choices (eating an apple, for example, instead of chips) and beating myself up about them (third glass of white wine anyone? Why yes, I’d love one…). I made healthy food for the family all weekend long: whole wheat pasta, turkey meatballs in marinara sauce. Whole grain pizzas with fresh corn and butternut squash from the farmers’ market. Rice chips and hummus for snacks.
But then I would have that third glass of wine. Or maybe a little bit of bread to mop up the garlic sauce we made for the shrimp last night. Or a few bites of the cheese leftover from the party I threw Friday night. Nothing huge or terrible. But just enough to keep me from posting a loss (again) this week.
I feel crappy about it.
Crappy enough that I didn’t make myself exercise all weekend. Nothing. And frankly, I didn’t really get much in Friday either. I tried the last Fitmixer bootcamp I was sent (I need to write a post about those and btw are those already done? Booo…..I was liking them!) and it was insanely hard. Like, handstand on the wall and hold for two minutes and oh maybe you can do leg lifts while you’re upside down hard. I got about eight minutes in before I laughed at how ridiculous I felt and stopped.
Each morning I had intentions to get up and go for a run. Saturday? Too tired from a late night Friday. Maybe I could do something later in the day and sleep in (it never happens but still I tell myself I will each time I talk myself out of an early morning workout). Sunday? Same. I could do it later in the day since I had to get my daughter to church for a a volunteer thing by nine.
This morning, I was doing the same talk myself out of it thing while I lay there in bed watching the sun come up. Today, I had time. The kids don’t have school and my husband was finally home from his business trip. But still, I lay there. I don’t feel like it, I told myself. It will be hard after not running for a few days, I thought. I could do it later, maybe.
But then I reminded myself that I’d signed up for a trail run in two weeks. A four mile trail run.
Do I want that to feel great? Or like total garbage? Because this decision, as I lay there in bed, was going determine how that race will go.
So I hauled myself out of bed. I grabbed a power bar and my dog and headed out. And this is how it turned out:
I ran for 47 minutes (three 15 minute intervals plus two minutes of the cooldown walk). I walked for ten (five minutes to warm up, two one minute walk breaks, and three minutes of cooldown). And it felt good. Really, really, good. I actually ENJOYED it. It was a cool, foggy morning, and no one else was out. The sun was coming up. Everything was quiet and still.
The best part? I got home at 8:15 am. 8:15, and I’m feeling great. Like today will be a better day. Like I can do this. Make better choices.
For now, that’s the part I’m going to focus on.