This morning the plan was to go to the gym…but that didn’t happen.
After spending the last few days in Charleston living the YOLO and “treat yo’ self” lifestyle during spring break, I vowed to wake up this morning and hit the gym before work. My alarm went off at 4:45 am. I got out of bed at 6:10.
To make matters even worse, I decided to be an absolute glutton for punishment and step on the scale this morning. That didn’t help at all.
I just sat here and calculated that I have exactly 31 weeks until the NYC marathon. 31 weeks to get my act together and my butt in gear. And yet, as I make myself the promise every single morning to get up, it’s hard to actually follow through on it.
I KNOW how much better I feel when I do it. I KNOW how much better my day goes and how my mood is more elevated. I KNOW that I feel a sense of accomplishment before most people are even starting their day. I KNOW this. But still…the warmth of the bed envelopes me and I YOLO my way back to sleep for an extra hour, waking up far more cranky simply because I let myself down once again.
Tomorrow is a new day, right?
Tomorrow I can do it.