Thursday, August 4, 2011


Many times this morning I tried to talk myself out of exercising.  I simply did not want to do it.  These times (fortunately) are few and far between for me, but IF they're going to occur, they occur on my one SUPER-hormonal day each month (...and I am thankful that it's only ONE super-hormonal day... there used to be TEN of them each and every month...).  On those days, E V E R Y T H I N G bothers me:  the clock ticks too loudly, the birds chirp to perkily outside my window at FOUR-FREAKING-THIRTY in the morning, my stomach feels too bloated for my yoga pants, my big toe hurts, I can't get my hair pulled back right, someone put my favorite water bottle away in the wrong place...

Ever have days like that?  Used to be that I'd figure it best if I just hibernated.  Those were my "off" days (remember, there USED to be TEN of 'em).  I'd try to avoid going anywhere I absolutely did not HAVE to go and I definitely tried to avoid having any conversations that I might regret later...  I hated being at the mercy of my hormones.

Gradually, as my eating habits became healthier and I became more in tune with the natural rhythms of my body, I learned how to work with my body, rather than against it.  I treated myself with more kindness (kindness is not necessarily doing what I want, when I want it, but kindness sometimes means doing what I know I should do - even when I don't feel like it):  nurturing myself with really healthy food and faithful exercise.  Coincidentally, my hormones began to stabilize (a condition that I'd been diagnosed with that often necessitates a hysterectomy as the only known cure actually resolved!).

I knew that, even though I did not REALLY want to exercise this morning (I mean, who can't come up with a million reasons NOT to lock themselves into a 100 degree room with dozens of sweaty people for 90-minutes when the temps are in the 100's outside, too???), I really should, anyway.  So I did.  I dutifully got myself ready.  I half-heartedly mustered up some kind of pep-talk (sometimes I have to draw on my inner-coach and treat myself as I would a client) about how fortunate I am that I can move and breathe and use my limbs and sweat and become stronger and... and... and... and gradually, one foot went in front of the other - out of the car and down the (hot and stuffy) steps of the parking garage, and across the little driveway and up to the second floor of the building that houses my yoga studio and down the hall and into the room where I laid out my mat and arranged my THREE extra towels and big bottle of water and I realized that just getting there was WAY more than half the battle for me today, and once I'd gotten there, I was so really and truly happy that, at times, I can be a real "hard @$$" - especially with myself.

The cadence of the drip, drip, dripping as my sweat pooled all around me served as a constant reminder throughout my class that none of the benefits I was experiencing by being right there, right then could have happened if I had given in and allowed myself the easy "out".  By the time my class ended, I felt I had really accomplished something:  I'd battled with the one person who knows every single one of my weak spots, and I'd won.

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