This perhaps doesn’t need to be said, but I am not perfect.
It’s difficult, wearing the badge of inspiration. It weighs heavy during those moments when you are less than perfect. When you make less than perfect choices. Take less than perfect actions. When you have people looking up to you, see you as a source of motivation, it’s hard to admit when you’re lacking motivation of your own.
Fact #1: I have not been running since last Friday.
Fact #1b: I haven’t done physical activity of any kind since disc golfing on Saturday.
Fact #2: I may have given into the six jars of peanut butter currently sitting in my kitchen cupboards. Seriously. It was not pretty. Just me and a spoon, sampling each flavor. (Well, four of the six. The crunchy one is to die for and got tasted twice. Maybe three times.) Thankfully, this post from Sweating Until Happy stopped me from doing it two nights in a row. (He also gave me the post title. It was just what I needed at that exact moment.)
I’ve just been feeling off all week. Unmotivated. Uninspired. The declining daylight hours has totally screwed up my running routine. I work absurdly long hours. 9am to 9pm, four days a week. I don’t get home until 9:30, at which point it’s well past dark these days and I’m too tired. Morning is my best time, but the sun is rising later and later, cutting how much time I have outside so all week I’ve taken the attitude of why bother and just continued to sleep.
Given my neighborhood, I don’t feel safe or comfortable with the idea of running in the dark. Not that I would feel safe or comfortable doing that anyway, but still. And I really, really, really hate the treadmill. It’s there. I have access to it, but I’m choosing to not use it. I’m choosing to not exercise. Choosing to be lazy.
But I’m also choosing to be held accountable, which is why I’m writing this post and why I tracked all that stupid peanut butter I ate. (I’m also glad I made the choice a few weeks ago to track calories on top of Weight Watchers points. It helped put things in perspective, as it wasn’t really that bad in the grand scheme of things.)
Tuesday I found out my application to be a Sweat Pink ambassador was approved. I should have been excited, but instead all I could think was how lazy I’ve been this week. I haven’t been sweating anything, let alone sweating pink.
This, you see, is one of those defining moments. Another choice to be made. I’ve come too far to let one week throw my whole game off, especially when the week is only half over.
So I decided to give myself a pass.
I decided to say it’s okay to have an off week. It’s okay to not be perfect. It’s okay to yet again sleep in this morning. I’ve been at this for nineteen months. That’s, like, 76 weeks. That’s a really long time, people. Off weeks are inevitable, but instead of punishing myself for them I’ve opted to give myself permission for them.
But only on the condition that tomorrow morning I wake up and I kick some motherfucking ass.
Feeling guilty, feeling bad about my behavior is the sort of thing that set me on the path to disordered eating. I will not do that again. Instead, I will say that a few off days are not the end of the world. Because they aren’t. I have the entire weekend ahead of me to run to my little heart’s content, which is my plan for tomorrow. I will also sit down and devise a new running plan, because running outside in the morning before work no longer seems feasible for the next few seasons. So maybe it means forcing myself on the treadmill. Maybe it means seeing if I can figure out a way to run during my long dinner breaks at work. I need to add strength training to my routine, so maybe this is the jolt I need to sign up for a gym or the YMCA.
I will make sure to stock up on veggies and nutritious snacks so the next time I am confronted with the choice of hunger vs. craving, I can consistently choose wisely. I will remember that I don’t need a perfect record, just a winning record. I will inspire and motivate not only others, but, most importantly, I will inspire and motivate myself.
I will Sweat Pink.
Love from the ashes,