I am a wannabe morning person. I love how it feels when I get up and get things done in the early hours -- that sense of accomplishment that nothing can take away from me, regardless of what other goofy stuff happens that day. It's just so hard to get there. I don't naturally want to roll out of bed before 6 and drag myself to the gym or out on a walk. I love my bed. I would like to stay there for a long time, sleep a little more, stretch a little, read a little, then amble into the kitchen for breakfast with the newspaper before I attack the day. But I can't have the accomplishment and the ambling. They do not mix.
Today I am resolving (again) to be really dedicated to my health and fitness goals. I have 9 weeks until my brother's wedding. If I can work very hard and be very good for those weeks, maybe I will not look so very much like the chubby sister in the photos. (I do have to thank the bride in advance for choosing black and white as her colors. A black dress will help immensely!)
In keeping with this resolution, I went to the gym this morning. Got there about 6:05. I did this for a few months through last winter. I was short on sleep and hardly ever saw my husband through that time, but I did get to the gym almost every day. It's not easy.
There is an older gentleman who works out at my gym in the morning. A wonderful, friendly man. He seems to be friends with everyone. I've talked to him before; he calls me "young lady." He saw me today busting my poor little biceps and came up to talk to me. He asked me where I'd been. How nice was that? I told him I'd been trying to make it in the evenings, which is mostly true, but that it hadn't been working out. He wondered why. I told him I was a mom, and he instantly understood.
No big revelation here. Just a friendly guy who lit up my early morning today by remembering me and asking where I'd been. I could learn from that.
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