So I promised myself last week for the 9,458th time that I WAS going MAKE THE EFFORT to start jogging again. (My metabolism and the seams on my jeans are having a war right now with each other. One is trying to bust through the barriers while the other is trying to hold it all in!)
Plus, it's VERY important to me that both of our kids see their parents as active people. Chris has that nailed. He's an amazing role model. But for me, we are busy that I do not make exercise a priority. Side note- on the way to school this morning I saw some kids waiting for the bus on their very first day. ***And I was embarassed at my thoughts.*** How are this many kids so overweight? I don't mean that to be hurtful in any way. I know they're all extrodinary, WONDERFUL, amazing and beautiful children, but our society is not going to keep heart disease from creeping up on us at the age of 50 with the way we're going!
So, I'm pledging to start my 20 minute jogs again. I'm not going to commit to a number per week. I'm just going to try when I can. I'm going to make the effort. Life is not going to take over. I am.
Funny though; my friend Ashley and I were just talking because my last attempt went something like this:
Wake up an hour early because a 20 minute jog takes me that long!
Hit the snooze for 15 minutes.
Fix my mangled hair so that the neighbors don't think someone escaped from the asylum.
Brush my teeth because-well- I don't want to increase my carbon footprint by breathing through my mouth.
Find my shoes.
Manage to get all the running gear on. (right, all three things)
Go back in the house for my wedding ring because it's part of me. And I'm that weird that way. I run in my ring and pearl earrings. What? Don't judge.
Go back again to drink some water because I don't want to get parched when I'm a mile from the house. And because I'm stalling.
Go back one more time because I need my iphone/headphones.
Then curse quietly to myself over the threshhold because opening the door that many times woke up the kids.
Argue with myself and say 'screw it' because I need to do this. Chris can deal with the kids for "20 minutes."
Feel guilty because they're in there crying and he's going to have a rotten morning by having to deal with that first thing. (love and guilt are interchangable, apparently)
Then I give up and go back inside and hope for the best tomorrow.
Sigh. I'm tired.