Determined to be better than I was yesterday, I head to the gym. Thirty minutes on the treadmill. 2.5 speed. Level 5 incline. I can do this. It’s only half an hour.
There’s this interesting guy I found on YouTube a few months ago. Buddist monk. Nick something or other. His perspectives on life are captivating. Odd, yet, captivating. I choose one of his videos to keep me entertained as I trudge up the stationary hill in the gym. After only five minutes, my butt is already sore and my chest burns.
Twenty-five more minutes of torture. I. Can. Do. This.
Nick is in my ear explaining the importance of developing routines for our daily lives. He says sticking to a particular structure will increase our levels of discipline.
My mind trails off to the countless times I’ve started my fitness journey only to veer off track after a few weeks.
Three, maybe four years ago I participated in a six-week boot camp hosted by this fabulous fitness guru. Her body was beautiful- statuesque. She looked as if she could arm wrestle with the best of them.
Each Monday of the boot camp we’d run 2 miles. The first Monday, I almost died. I thought someone would have to call an ambulance. I wish I could say the boot camp got easier as the weeks progressed. But it didn’t. Every day I felt like I was near death. I made it 4 complete weeks. But decided not to finish the full six weeks. It was too hard. I was too discouraged.
This is my normal behavior when it comes to fitness. I lack consistency. It’s pretty bad.
But at the start of 2023 I decided to push myself past my comfort level and become more active.
So, here I am, fatigued, breathing heavily, trying to not look like I’ll pass out any minute.
Twenty minutes left. I. Can. Do. This.