My latest insomnia phase has been dragging itself out since September. September. I can catch the required zzzzz’s some nights, but most nights…I’m rendevousing with the Huxtables and the Connors. (For those of you too young to know, google it.) I have learned to compensate by sleeping later on mornings after or slurping down an extra cuppa joe – but often that comes at the expense of workout time. And I just can’t have that.
Typically, it gets pushed to naptime. But on days like today, when my much anticipated breakfast chat with an old friend rolled right into and past a lunchtime chat (hooray!), things needed to be reconfigured. Reinforcements were called in so I could SweatItOut this evening sans Babe interruptions. (Reinforcements = Hubby took Babe to the Werewolf’s wrestling practice). Blissful sweat session, yes?
No. I’m still kinda tired. With the early darkness of winter already here, my missing slumber, and a long afternoon of sibling rivalry, my heart just wasn’t in it. To put it quite simply: I just didn’t feel like it. (That was meant to be read in a whine so petulant you’d think a seven-year-old with math homework and broccoli on his plate was saying it.)
But that’s what discipline is: moving forward even when motivation has taken the last plane to IDon’tCareVille (dress code: stained sweats and knockoff crocs). My goals haven’t changed just because I’m weary. And I’m not going to get any closer – no matter how great my excuse may be – if I don’t put in both time and effort. Yes. That means I pushed myself 100% for each round in TurboFire HIIT 20 and I lifted to failure for each exercise of Burn Circuit 3.
The endorphins never quite kicked in. I still wanna flop into bed and watch last night’s Colbert Report and tonight’s New Girl (all new episode!). Alas, I must shower first. After all, it isn’t Hubby’s fault I spent an hour catching up on Gems With Friends at 2 a.m. Count some sheep for me and cross your fingers that these peepers manage an entire night of closure. I still have that alarm set for predawn hours in the hopes that I will jabbin’ and hookin’ with Chalene in the a.m.