What’s my motivation here?

I’m not a fitness expert. I’m not an expert at anything. Complaining, procrastinating, maybe that. But I read a lot, and I soak in the advice from all those fitness experts. They make lists about how to stay motivated and give lots of tips of things to change in your routine. Some of that stuff makes sense: plan your workouts a week in advance, make them non-negotiable parts of your day, change up your routine to avoid boredom, sign up for a race, make a new playlist, reward yourself with some new workout swag, etc., etc. Yes, I’ve tried all of that. My Outlook calendar still has “crosstraining” every Saturday through infinity, although I cannot remember the last time I actually did one. I’ve signed up and paid for races that I never ran. Yup. And I rationalized it by telling myself that I contributed to a good cause. Does it make me feel bad to fail to live up to my own expectations? Yup.

I don’t want to feel bad. My inner couch potato says (in her oh-so-soothing voice) “if you don’t sign up for anything or commit then you cannot possibly fail”. Thanks for stating the obvious. While that happens to be true, it is not what I want. My inner couch potato may be very sweet and convincing, but I’m starting to figure out that she is not my friend.

Last week I wrote that my goal was to work out 3 times this week. (Actually I wrote that on Wednesday. Derp. Procrastinate much?) So how did I do, you ask? Well, interested reader, I made it to the gym yesterday and took the dog for a “run” today. And I cleaned the house, which I think should count as a workout, considering that it took me 2 hours and I scrubbed floors. Ok, so maybe that isn’t technically a workout, but I wasn’t sitting on the couch. That has to count for something, right?

003

So here is my “running” partner, Dio. The D-Man, D-Rocket, I could go on and on. He’s got lots of nicknames, is what I’m saying. And he’s not a good running partner, either. I love him to pieces (just ask my husband), but he’s not good on the road. He’s gotta stop every 10 feet to smell some dead thing or another. So today, knowing I need to get in a workout, decide to work with what I’ve got. It’s 60 degrees in Massachusetts (which is just so wrong, and a topic for another expert), so it’s muddy and mild and just perfect for a dog. How could I deny him that experience?? So while he’s filling his giant nose with the aroma of fox urine and squirrel skat, I am doing squats and lunges, and donkey kicks. Do I look like a complete nut out there? Most likely, but I live on a long country road with neighbors who mostly ignore me, and I figure the fog obscured me from anyone who happened to look out their window. (I hope). It ended up being a decent workout that way. He had fun. I had fun. And if anybody saw us, welp, I gotta ginormous dog with me, you really wanna start something?? I didn’t think so.

So I partially succeeded. I did two workouts out of three. Two and three-quarters. So what is my motivation here? What’s it gonna take to get me off the couch for good? I wish I had the answer to that. No expert can tell me. I’ve gotta sort this out myself. I guess maybe the first thing would be to do the opposite of what that sweet inner couch potato voice tells me.

adventurous bird

Maybe, just maybe, if I can quiet my inner couch potato, I’ll hear the adventurous bird. She might tell me to stop thinking so much and just go have fun. And that would be exactly what I want a friend to say.

Cheep, cheep!
Karen

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