I was a bit distracted this week from exercising because I babysat my friend's children so she could attend a funeral.
I've told myself that the bare minimum number of times that I should go is three times per week. After all, I've paid for it, it's good for me and maybe it will help get more blood flow around my uterus. I should go. I only went twice this week. Uggggh.
There are two Saturday morning classes. I woke up early enough to attend the first class at 9:00 a.m. D and I like to sleep in on Saturdays because it's our only day to do so. I figure it's one of the few bonuses associated with infertility, so I embrace it guilt free. I love waking up without an alarm.
I got up, and leisurely made our smoothies, and brought D his in bed.
I decided I was cold. So I told myself I would just get in the warm bed for a few minutes. We cuddled, and I decided that I really didn't want to go to the class. I'll go to the next one at 10:00 a.m., I told myself. That way, I'll have time for my breakfast to digest. And besides, I'd rather try the cardio class than do the kickboxing one that was offered earlier.
Several wonderful minutes of procrastination later, I thought about actually getting ready to leave for the class. Brush my teeth, do something with my mop, put on my work out clothes, get my water and leave.
Instead, I laid around some more, and convinced myself that I really didn't need to go. I didn't want to go, so why should I? I got my period yesterday and I don't feel the best. Maybe I should stay home. We could go for a walk later instead. Maybe I'll stay home. I'll finish putting away those last Christmas decorations instead. Maybe I should stay home. There's that cabinet I've been thinking of refinishing for the past year. Maybe I should stay home.
D tried to say some encouraging words, however I rejected them completely.
The clock raced by. Eventually, it got to the point where if I rushed to get ready, I might still make it on time.
Still, I sat there and debated. And then I decided to give up. Who cares, I'll try harder next week. Exercise-smexercise. I'm staying home.
Then, I thought about how I would feel mad and annoyed at myself all day for not going. Unfortunately, after years of not exercising, it's a feeling that I am all too familiar with.
I thought about how much I hate push ups. And burpees. And how the floor there doesn't get mopped there as much as it needs to be.
I realized that the self-hate that I would get from not attending would be worse than going. So, I decided to go. And now, I was definitely going to be late. Great.
I rushed around and jumped in the car.
I ran in quickly, and arrived just in time to watch the end of the warm up stretches. What is wrong with me I wonder? I woke up over two hours ago.
Then I looked down at my things and realized I left my water bottle in the car. I didn't go get it, and decided that it was my punishment for not getting my act together sooner.
I finished the class. Instead of feeling happy about attending, I feel annoyed at myself.
I need to get a better handle on this.
