My motivation has LEFT the building…

I’m sitting here, IN my running clothes, and I’ve missed my window. It’s time to hop in the shower and meet a friend at the farm market. I should have run. It’s been 4 days. I feel the motivation seeping out of me. I’m up a few pounds. I feel groggy. How do I get it back, that joy of fitness? This seems to always happen to me — I go great guns for a while, months even, and then I slowly lose steam. I know the answer is JUST DO IT. But again, another morning has slipped away, and the window is gone. There are so few windows of opportunity and it’s so easy to let myself get caught up in whatever else I’m doing.  Maybe tomorrow…

I posted that comment Saturday on Stephanie’s post On Fitness and Feeling Good.

I ran later that day, by the way.  After the farm market trip, I got home, and I realized I had time to run.  I looked outside, and it looked like rain.  And I almost didn’t go.  But then I did.

And I’m so glad I did.

Yesterday I ran again.  Again I almost didn’t.  Again I put it off till the last possible moment.  But I did it.

My knees hurt for the rest of the day.  I feel old and decrepit at 37.  I’m not sure I should keep trying to run, but no other form of exercise calls me in quite the same way.

I feel like I’m hanging on by a thread.  My determination is waning.  I don’t look forward to it like I did in the beginning.  Every day begs the question:

Will I or won’t I?

In my very first post on running, my friend over at Hillcrest Cottage said this in her comment:

Every day is a new day to run…or not. A choice to be made every day. I think that is why runners get so fanatical about their pursuit because they are always one day away from NOT being a runner.

Maybe all things requiring discipline are daily choices.

That’s how I feel — the one day away part.  I know my pattern.  I know how I tend to give up on exercise after a time, and right now I’m at that juncture.

And this time of year is just HARD.  I struggle emotionally this time every year, with the fickleness of the weather and the busyness of the end of the school year.  Every choice seems heavy, even the simple ones.

I am much better now than I was this time last year.  So much better.  But I feel that emotional funk tugging on me, its fingers grasping at my toes as I try to swim away.  I credit my new eating habits and the running with my ability to keep my head above water, but it’s a daily battle.

Maybe all things requiring discipline are daily choices.