Week Two, Day Three
This is going to be some #truthposting today. Beccause you deserve to hear it. I deserve to get it out. And mostly, if I give a name to it - maybe I will how silly it is.
My last workout day was Saturday and as you can recall it wasn't great. Sunday night rolled around and as I tried to sleep (even taking one of my sleeping pills), I tossed and turned and couldn't fall asleep for the life of me. Why? Because my anxiety took hold. (Sense a common theme here?)
So on Monday, I didn't work out because when 4:50 am rolled around, I was like Fuck this. And then you know what my dumbass did? The exact same thing Monday night... but because my husband doesn't suffer from the same horrible affliction I do, I told him to go without me. That I would self-sabatoge on my own. I wouldn't bring him down with me. So he got up, like a good little boy and went to the gym this morning.
I woke up and thought... "Shit. I'm tired. I'm grumpy. I don't want to do this."
But I did it. I made myself put on those clothes and walk the short distance to my treadmill at home (as crappy as it is compared to the gyms) and I made myself finish Week 2, Day 3.
I skipped a run and got my ass off and into the shower as soon as the lady screamed "workout complete" and promptly went to work (thus the late posting now). But I DID IT.
Every time I follow through, I consider it a victory against "quitter Jade."