I’ve Got the Workout Blues

Every night, when I go to bed, I have that singular moment of truth. The moment when I set my alarm clock. That moment when I convince myself that I will get up early and exercise before work.

At that point, when I’m setting my alarm, it’s all unicorns and sunshine and rainbows.

I have every intention of keeping that promise to myself, every single day. When that alarm goes off at buttcrack-of-dawn-o-clock, I will spring from my bed, wide awake, and tackle some Just Dance like Shera (only with a Wii-mote instead of a sword.)

Every morning, when my alarm clock goes off, I have that singular moment of truth. The moment when I make that snap decision—do I get up, all Shera-like? Or do I hit the snooze button and head back to dreamland?

I’ll spend approximately thirty seconds deliberating that very decision. And in that 30-second span, I can come up with the most creative reasons why I should stay in bed.

What excuse can I use today? Do I have a headache? Is my favorite sports bra still dirty? Have the zombies shown up to announce the arrival of the apocalypse?

Inevitably, one of those excuses will sound just perfect, I’ll hit the snooze button, and before I know it, I’m sitting at my computer, staring at my Weight Watchers home page, unable to track any physical activity.

And it’s not the zombies’ fault.

They say if you get up early and workout everyday, it is easier to develop a routine. That working out daily just becomes part of your morning ritual, and that it gets easier over time.

I say THHHHHHHHHHHHHHHP.

I’ve never been a morning person. When I didn’t have to get up early for school, my parents had to practically set a bomb off in my bedroom to get me up on the weekends. (And if it was a pancakes and sausage bomb, that was even more effective.) In college, I purposefully stayed up till the crack of dawn JUST so I could be the first to register, thereby allowing me to pick the LATEST classes available. I didn’t have a class before 10 AM until I was a senior. I swear.

Now I have a job that allows me to sleep till 8:30 every morning. I get up, I shower and dress, and after my 30-foot commute (I work from home, remember?) I have arrived at my daily destination, ready (mostly) to put in my mandatory 8 hours.

Logically, my brain says to me: “Abby, it’s not such a big deal to get up an hour earlier in the mornings just to get your workout in. I mean, you don’t get up till 8:30! What’s the big deal about getting up at 7:30?”

To that, brain, I say, “WAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!”

I don’t wanna. And I will pout if you make me.

In all honesty, once upon a time I DID get up in the mornings and exercise before work. And do you want to know the WORST thing about it?

It worked.

Sigh.

Not only did I feel more energized throughout the day, but I was losing weight like a champ. And before you knew it, I was in a routine that I didn’t even think about after awhile. Getting up early was as natural to me as putting skim milk in my coffee.

I hate it when “they” are right.

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Can we just pause for a moment of silence at the thought of a real-life pancake-and-sausage bomb? 
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