It’s 10am on Sunday morning, I pick up my water bottle, a small towel and head out the door. I arrive at an almost empty gym and start to warm up. My body resists, my mind suggests that going back to bed might be a better idea and by and large the next hour or so is a bit of a struggle.
This is not a new feeling.
When I first started jogging there were sessions on a Wednesday evening, and a Sunday morning. Once I got over the initial shock of doing any form of regular exercise I was soon bounding along during the Wednesday evening sessions. Sunday mornings were horrid.
I used to think that it was maybe because I wasn’t warmed up enough, that as it was early in the morning I hadn’t really done anything so my body wasn’t really geared up to doing anything strenuous. Unfortunately even after an intense 10 minute warm up my body still wasn’t really of a mind to exert itself. It’s a wonder I managed it out of the house at all.
So I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I’m not a morning person, and so I wasn’t to perturb on Sunday when I couldn’t cycle as far as I did during the week, nor complete the same amount of reps on any of the machines. That’s ok though.
Because I was there. That is what counts on the days you really don’t want to go.
Now I just need to find a way to make them count DOUBLE, and I’ll be happy.
