My dog wakes up at 4:45 every morning to be fed.
Tyler’s alarm starts going off at 5:00 AM so this isn’t too terribly early for us. I do generally get back in bed and sleep until about 6:15/6:30, though. I mentally kick myself almost every single morning for wasting potentially productive hours by hitting the snooze button. Which is why I’ve challenged myself to stop going back to bed and get my ass down to our gym for a workout (because I’ve gotten skinny(ish)-fat, which isn’t cool) and to my computer for a little bit of writing (because I love to write but rarely do, which also isn’t cool) to start each day.
This is supposed to be a 30-day challenge, and yesterday was supposed to be Day One. Yesterday I pawned the-feeding-of-the-dog off on Tyler and finally got out of bed at 6:35. Great start.
This morning, at 4:45, the dog woke me from a dream about my first day back in the gym. The dream went something like this: I walked into a place that Planet Fitness could describe as Lunk-ville (and I loved it). I was so embarrassed to see how far I had fallen and intimidated by every meathead around me. There weren’t even separate men’s and women’s locker rooms (Privacy doesn’t matter, bitch. The only thing that matters here is how much you can lift!). But in my dream I was quite proud of myself for getting it in gear despite these things, and as I pulled out my credit card to pay for my membership, I was awakened by a cold dog nose in my face.
I’m not one to say something is a “sign.” Lets be honest. My brain was pulling a (well-timed) guilt trip on me. But in a moment of surprising (pre-coffee, pre-awareness, pre-anything because it was fucking 4:45 AM) clarity I knew today had to be day one.
Its November. Its rainy. Its chilly and dark outside. And there are not enough radiators in my bedroom to actually heat it up. Read: going back to bed until at least dawn would have been fantastic. So, I didn’t even bother to brush my teeth or change out of my pajamas for fear of changing my mind and diving back under the covers, head first.
I ambled down the stairs, turned on all of the lights as I navigated the mini maze that is my basement until I reached our home gym, stared at the smith machine and bow flex and dumbbells (all former favorites of mine) and decided I’d go for the TRX, which is about as easy as it gets. Well, it doesn’t have to be. That TRX can be used for some pretty difficult stuff, but not today. I was more concerned with not curling up on the treadmill for a nap and with getting upstairs to my coffee than I was with the actual content of the workout. Today, I just wanted to start. I had my workout (if you can call it that) buddies with me the whole way.
Yes, that rug is the dog’s “place” where he must stay. The lovable guy tries to get so close that one time this morning he knocked me off my stability ball onto that really comfy looking concrete floor. Maybe in a few weeks I’ll have enough core strength to allow him to roam free.
It didn’t take long for this so-called workout to energize me, and as I climbed the stairs for COFFEE (I decided that I would not be allowed to have any coffee until after my workout each day – a reward for the days I’m feeling particularly unmotivated.) I was aware of how differently I had felt descending those same steps not fifteen minutes before. Yes. My TRX workout lasted less than fifteen minutes. Don’t judge me. (Or do, whatever. I don’t care. You were probably still asleep.)
And so it begins. My self-imposed 30 day challenge: An effort to cut the crap and make time for the things I say are important to me, but never actually act on. I don’t plan on writing about this every single day for 30 days, that would be boring. But I do plan on writing every day for the next month. I have no clue what I’ll come up with, but I’ll post it. Just to prove that I can.