Starting Over

Don’t call it a comeback…

I’ve started going to the gym before work again.  On Monday when my alarm went off I immediately turned it off, rolled over, and went right back to sleep…just as I had done the last two weeks.  But after 5 minutes of laying there I knew I had to get up and go.  And I actually did.  I was so proud of myself for getting up on Monday that I was able to easily rise out of bed today.  Fingers are crossed for tomorrow and the rest of the week.

I’d forgotten how much better I felt during the day when I worked out in the morning. I feel calmer (though it’s probably just that I’m tired) and more focused.  I’m able to tone my anxiety down quicker and compartmentalize better (This is a school worry.  You are home with the kids.  Stop thinking about this).  And this is just after 2 days.

But 2 days seems to be the most I can do these days.  Usually by day 3 I convince myself I need a “break” and the one morning off turns into a week or more.

It’s amazing how much easier it was to work out when I was unhappy.  When it was hard to be at home or spend time with Mike I would always find time to take a break at the gym.  When my dad died and I spiraled into my summer of self destruction, running was the thing that was able to pull my back to the surface long enough to take a breath.

But now, bed and home are my safety nets.  I like being here.  It’s cozy and warm and far away from the anxieties of a bad marriage and an overly stressful job.  It’s hard to get up and go.  It’s hard to leave the place where I feel the safest.

But I’ve done it twice this week.  I managed to get myself up and go, even when I did it alone.  So I can do it again, I know I can.


In all seriousness

“One must be serious about something, if one wants to have any amusement in life.” ~Oscar Wilde

I don’t know what it is, but I can’t seem to push myself.  I seem quite content at being complacent these days.

I’m supposed to be running a marathon in 5 months and I’m training for it like it’s a 5k, allowing myself to make excuses to cut runs short.  I’d probably skip them altogether if it weren’t for this run streak.

I think maybe I’m not allowing myself to be serious about it so I have a reason to fail.  That if I’m not ready for it I won’t have to do it.  If I can’t finish it it’s because I wasn’t ready for it.

I think maybe I’m not allowing myself to be serious about this because I’m too concerned about what other people think.  The whole “You’re training for a marathon?  You?” pops into my head quite frequently when I imaginarily tell people about it.

I seem to always allow my life to be dictated by the thought of these “others”, people who I’m sure are judging me because I’ve probably judged them at some point.  I try to be positive, but my thoughts are always so negative, especially the ones that I’ve directed at myself.

I need to remind myself that it’s OK to be serious about this and to take myself seriously.  Even if no one else thinks so, I have to believe that I can do this.