“It’s time to make changes in diet and exercise,” she thought, as she stood in line at Starbucks to buy an overpriced frappuccino.
The weather is warmer, the roads are clear, the workout clothes are purchased, and the second 10km race has been completed. Fuck everything, the only one standing in my way is me.
It’s not just about setting good examples, it’s about feeling good in my own skin. And delicious as those cookies are, they’re not doing the jiggly parts any favours. So let’s use this summer, this year as a wake-up call. There’s someone in my building training for a marathon for her 50th birthday; what the hell’s holding me back?
Oh yeah, schedule, baby, husband’s schedule. Running at 10 p.m. when I have to be up at 5:15 isn’t ideal, but I’ve done it before. Maybe the mornings are the way to go, assuming I can pull my ass out of bed in time.
I feel frustrated about so much, above and beyond this sack of flesh. I’m not sure if exercise will fix anything, but at least I’ll be doing something.