Tonight, a mile was the biggest thing my head could wrap itself around. I was tired. I had other things to do. The lure of watching tv or playing Tetris party was strong. Instead I went to the gym and walked a wimpy 8 laps.
The thought process for each lap went like this:
- This is alright. Leisurely stroll in a circle. I got this. The rust will slowly fall off.
- Wow. There are people in the pool doing real workout things. When I swam, I’d just doggy paddle and froggy kick. Hmm. The treadmill people are hardcore. Okay. I’m sore. This is dumb. I hurt and I’m only starting. I should stop and go home. Ice cream.
- I know way too many people here for me to be so red and sweaty from a leisurely stroll.
- Maybe half a mile is okay. That’s still something. This will count. Kinda like washing part of the dishes. At least some are clean.
- I should finish this mile. A mile is the unit for working out… not a lap. I don’t want to walk 5/8 of a mile.
- ENDORPHIN RUSH.
- I wonder if I have time to play in the weight room today. Or I could try jogging a bit. NO. Slow and steady. Today is to nurture the need to come back here.
- That went quicker than expected. Not too bad. Maybe I could come tomorrow for another one.