It’s raining.
It’s cold.
With the wind, it’s cold enough to make my muscles feel like there are shards of glass layered between them. I’m hurting, about an 8/10.
I got maybe 5 hours of sleep last night.
I spent 5 hours babysitting a two year old and 3 month old infant, so it wasn’t a laze around kind of day.
This is what was going through my head yesterday afternoon. I was exhausted and all I wanted to do was go home and sleep. Any one of these excuses could have been reason enough to skip my workout; and yet… I finished babysitting for the day, I got in my car and drove to the park.
Before I even finished my warm up, I was soaked through, I was still close enough to the car that I could have easily given up an just gone home. I didn’t. I turned up my music and I ran. I did 4 miles all by my lonesome in the cold rain. By the time I was done, my fingers and toes were burning, (thanks to the Reynaud’s Phenomenon I developed last year).
It was worth it.
I’m not looking for a pat on the back, I can do that myself. I’m sharing this experience because I’m sick of excuses. Mostly, I’m sick of my own excuses, but I’m also tired of listening to people whine, (via every social network that exists), about how miserable they are. Would you like to know why you are so miserable? Because you allow yourself to be.
I’ve been doing my own fair share of moaning and groaning, (mostly to myself), about how I’ve plateaued and can’t seem to shake these last 20 pounds. I whine that I just can’t run like I could this time last year, I fuss about the fact that my size 6 jeans don’t fit the way I want them to. Then, it occurred to me: the only thing keeping me out of those jeans is, (cue mental face palm), myself.
No one is keeping me tied to a chair, no one is forcing me to eat cakes or cookies, I’m doing it to myself.
I realize that this whole thing probably sounds harsh, but I’ve never been a very cuddly kind of person. I don’t sugar coat things and I don’t do fluff. If anything, my journey to beat the fibro has made me even harsher. I have no tolerance for people who claim they want something and then do nothing about it, myself included.
I understand now why personal trainers and fitness experts tend to seem like bullies; they know that people are their own worst enemies. About 10 years ago, I took a kick boxing course in college. The teacher was a serious ball buster and her motto was: “why be slack?”. I hated her. She was loud, harsh and allowed no room for half measures. Suddenly, I understand. If you truly want to achieve something, there is no room for half hearted attempts. You may not succeed on your first try, but if you don’t put 100% into every attempt, you’ll never reach your goals.
Yes, that is easier said than done. I may understand it, but I am still learning to put this concept into action. The cold burning sensation I’m still feeling in my fingers tells me that for today at least, I have succeeded. That leaves me with just one question: what’s your excuse?
Fighting Fibro with Fire 