The rain. The gray. The chill. It does not induce warm and fuzzy work out feelings in me. It induces DVR, good book, and warm tea feelings. What to do? Race day is creeping closer and skipping scheduled training is not an option. No matter how sweet and snuggly that napping babe in my bed looks to me.
First step: mix up some E&E. On my far-too-early-to-be-sane running mornings, when I can barely open my eyes, this is my go-to. I sip as I watch the morning news and suddenly go from justifying why bed is better to MUSTRUNNOW. And it works just as well on a rainy late morning, even if Bethenny Ever After is waiting on my queue. I am sipping it now, and my fingers are racing to be done with the blog so I can get groovin’ with Chalene and TurboFire.
Second step: read my own freakin’ blog. It reminds me not only of why I am doing this, it makes me WANT to do this. I seriously inspire myself. Call it conceit if you want, but then I might call you jealous. I think it’s better when we all just choose to love me and sweat it out together.
Third step: PRESS PLAY. Once I hear the Turbo music, my butt gets a mind of its own. It starts shakin’ and movin’ to the beat, dragging my well-muscled arms along for the ride. How did I live life before running and TurboFire??? I don’t know how I went so long, but I know for sure I ain’t goin’ back! Increased energy, drive, focus…It’s all taking up residence on a permanent basis. I bought TurboFire as a means to lose my baby weight. Turns out it was a means to losing an unhealthy life and a catapault to an entirely new world. I had no idea that THIS body could do THOSE moves and LOVE IT.
Once I’m done, I may have more words of wisdom to offer you. Or I may be too busy following TF up with a leg workout. Probably the best thing for you to do is join me. Grab some sweat bands. (Yes, I use them. I don’t care if I look like an 80’s gym flashback. This chick sweats like a pig.) Grab some weighted gloves. Grab two or three bottles of water (because I care about your hydration, and you should, too). Meet me at the Beachbody gym and let’s GET IT DONE. (E&E makes me type in ALL CAPS too.)
You can be sore tomorrow, or you can be sorry tomorrow. Every day, it’s a choice. You give me excuses, I stick my fingers in my ears and yell “BLAHBLAHBLAH.” I don’t speak weenie. I don’t accept it from myself, and I know you’re just as dedicated and strong as me.
So drop and give me twenty. (Or fifteen. I can do fifteen pretty good ones. Next week, we’ll be up to twenty.)