While yesterday may have been a dud, today was success! I was up by 6:40am, in my gear and out the door by 7. I was disappointed when I came home, looked at the clock, and saw I was only gone 35 minutes! Time to get a watch! It was wonderful and I hope to get myself hooked. I ran one long stretch, walked for a bit, then ran another long stretch. I have no idea how far I went, though. Gotta figure that out.
Here's what my body had to say:
Lungs: uh, really?
Shins: will you please run on the grass?
Right knee: no!
Boobies: we're all right!
Ears: love the Madonna, but get some muffs! *brr*
Eyes: the river sure is purdy; we like watching the sky turn from grey to orange
Mind: this feels right; no distractions!
Thanks for visiting my blog. Today I'm talking about fitness.
Does wrangling an 8 month old around count as exercise (a darling 8 month old, might I remind you)? Does scouring the tub and mopping the floors count? Because that's the extent to which I'm getting fitness in these days, ladies (and gentlemen? man? do any men read this blog?).
In my pre-baby days I was what some might classify as a gym rat. I miss those days when I was actually ok with wearing Victoria's Secret yoga pants with the fold-down part at the top--yeah, the clingy ones. Oh my...I found my IPOD shuffle last night, turned it on, and there was Madonna, oh, the tempo--my wonderful "you can do it" music. And I really, really, really miss the days of pushing my body.
So I sporadically made a perhaps too lofty goal to get up at 6:30 every weekday to go jogging. Yeah, I can do that. I'll set out my clothes the night before. I'll glide out of bed as a gazelle glides through the golden forest.
See? I set my clothes out! My new shoes, boobie girdle, pit-stain free t-shirt (I only have one):
So did I go jog today? Did I? Uh, embarrassingly, no (cracked my eyes open about 7:00am). Will I try again tomorrow? Absolutely. Baby steps. I can do it!