I can’t believe I was making excuses to skip this, I thought to myself on an unusually warm December day, the endorphins kicking in. Related: 7 Benefits of Strength Training That Go Way Beyond Buff ArmsĪnd while there were some noticeable physical changes, the real benefits weren’t the visible ones - I began looking forward to my runs, a small chunk of time blocked off from everything (and everyone) else in my life, reserved totally for me. Those “reserve” miles came in handy on the tough days when I was rushed for time, or when my hip muscles were tight after 25 minutes and my body seemed to say, “Enough, now.” Some days were easy, and I’d push myself to get in an extra mile or two while I had the energy. (Usually while watching TV, but hey, that still counts.)īy the third week, I was in a routine. I also bought a tube of arnica gel to help with any soreness, and made a point to stretch - even on the days I wasn’t running - to avoid injury. When I couldn’t get psyched about a run, I could at least get into the idea of listening to my favorite new music for 40 glorious minutes. I also equipped myself with a few essentials: New running shoes, a water bottle I kept on me at all times to stay hydrated, and a killer playlist. You’re already moving - now all you have to do is keep going. The hardest part of a run is the first few steps after that, it’s all rhythm.
But here’s the thing: I never ran just one mile. This mental exit button tricked me into getting outside on days I wanted to do anything more than break a hard sweat (oh hi, Netflix marathon!). On days I didn’t feel like running, I told myself that I only had to hit the road for a mile - if, after that, I wanted to call it quits for the day, then fine.
Instead of keeping my running clothes in my drawer, I set them out on an ottoman in my bedroom, so that they were literally right there. The first week of my self-challenge, I helped get myself motivated in small ways.
Related: Finish a 5K in Under 30 Minutes - And Feel On Top of the World I didn’t tell anyone what I was up to - mostly because I wanted an out, but also because blabbing about your fitness goal at a holiday party will make people slowly back away from you. That.” If I didn’t make it? Eh, well, it would be a personal bummer, but not a public one. If all went as planned, I would kick off 2016 having accomplished something I set out to do, rather than pointing to the future and saying, “Yes. It didn’t matter how many times a week I ran, or how fast, as long as I made it to my goal. It was early December, and while I’ve always found New Year’s resolutions to be depressing - so much build-up, so little follow-through - I figured I could handle a year’s end resolution. But it wasn’t so much my former body I longed for, as much as the woman who used to inhabit it - a woman constantly in motion.Īnd so, a little over a month ago, I decided to get that piece of myself back. Sure, I was a bit softer in the middle, and I missed the days when my clothes didn’t feel like I’d left them in the dryer too long. Who is this person, just sitting here? I thought. Maybe it was the fact that I’d (yet again) overbooked myself with work, or was feeling a little depressed about the holidays, but I felt a sudden pang of regret that I’d let a less burdened version of myself - the one with my ponytail swinging back and forth as my sneakers hit the pavement, breathing hard, looking ahead - fall to the wayside. And then, a little over a month ago, on a day I was feeling particularly down and overwhelmed, I slumped onto the couch and stared at my running shoes by the door. I gained a few pounds, but I lost even more miles. I want to wrap myself in a blanket like a burrito and eat … a burrito. Then life happened, as it has a tendency to do - and in my 30s, amid growing work responsibilities and other adult pile-ons, the miles I’d once relied on to keep me sane were slowly replaced by excuses. Related: You Don’t Have to Love Your Body
0 kommentar(er)
