What Was I Thinking.

About two months ago I decided to see if there wasn’t something I could do to stave off the aches and pains of old age so I joined a gym and found a personal trainer to help me along. It seemed logical that if I strengthened my muscles I would feel better and so I committed to a program that requires I get up at 5:00 AM twice a week, work out from 5:30 to 7:00, come home and get showered and dressed and off to work at 8:0o ish. I can report that the worst part of that plan is the alarm going off at 5:00 in the morning, followed closely by having to actually get out of bed.

Once I get to the gym, in somewhat rough shape, I start off with the stationery bike, which I hate with a passion. I’d much rather be on a real bike, but I’d kill myself for sure so I guess it's the next best thing. Thirty minutes of that and I’m ready for the trainer, stretches and various weight machines and free weights, a few of which I actually enjoy. By 7:00 I’m on my way home, having given the stray cat in the parking lot a handful of kibbles, and feeling pretty good.

On other days I contemplate walking a mile or so around the neighborhood, before or after work, and one of these days I’ll actually do that. I seem to have trouble self-motivating. If I know the trainer is waiting for me it gets me out of bed but on the days he isn’t there, I can talk myself out of anything. I have to admit that I’m feeling just a teensy bit better and I think that might help get me to persevere on my own.

Failure is not an option, or so I keep telling myself.