I did it! And how I managed to is completely beyond me. Storms, complete with dog-frightening thunder, pounded our area for most of the night and into the morning. The last thing I wanted to do was get up at six a.m. to go to THE GYM. But I figured that I'd better. Otherwise I'd erode my exercise plan for the week with a different excuse each day ("Oh, there's a storm. Better not go!" "Oh, I need to paint my toenails before Little Gym. Better not go!" "Oh, I've got way too much breathing to do this morning. Better not go!"). And considering that I've spent the better part of 35 years coming up with excuses for why I shouldn't do good things for myself (another post entirely) I got up and dragged my sorry butt into the darkness before the dawn to work out.
It wasn't always pleasant (I get headaches doing cardio sometimes. Probably means I'm dehydrated, right? But it's hard to hydrate when you're asleep!) but I kept imagining the hot shower that would serve as my reward for 30 minutes on the elliptical machine and the extra spunk I was sure to feel throughout the day (Um, when is that spunk supposed to kick in, exactly? Because I'm starting to feel a little drag-ass and it's only noon.). And it felt so good to accomplish a goal, to stick to a plan, to make time for myself even if that time was at an unholy hour.
I promised myself I'd give this crazy schedule a try for at least week so, one day down and only four to go. Maybe it'll get easier to get out of bed with each passing day. Maybe the headaches will fade with the more cardio I do. Maybe I'll learn to love getting up early and doing something worthwhile just for me. And maybe, just maybe, monkeys will fly out my butt.
Oh, well. A girl can hope, can't she?