Pretty much every day it’s a struggle for me to force myself to exercise. Even though I know it’s good for me, even though I know I’ll feel better if I do. It’s just a chore.
This morning I experienced the ultimate insult yet again. Got up, put on my workout clothes, headed out the front door for a power walk in the lovely, cool morning. And just as I got around the corner, giant raindrops started coming down. I’ve been known to walk in the rain, but there was thunder and lightning as well. I figured becoming a human lightning rod would probably nullify the positive effects of aerobic excercise, so I turned around and went straight back home. Elapsed time: 1.5 minutes. And now I’ve got to force myself into activity all over again later in the day.
But darn it, I think I should get credit for trying. I mean, if there was any justice in the world, the effort would count for something, right?
Same thing happened when I was at a conference in July. I specifically got up early and made my way to the workout room, full of self-righteousness. And was promptly deflated when every one of the treadmills was taken by obnoxiously buff businessmen. I was on a tight schedule, so my only recourse was to give up, grab a cup of coffee, and get ready for the day’s conference schedule. My sloth that day was totally not my fault
I hope somebody, somewhere is keeping score.