I don’t understand why it’s so hard for me to exercise regularly. This is a “padded” goal. My true goal is to exercise every day.
But it’s so much harder than it has any reason to be.
When I exercise, I feel better. I have more energy. I am kinder and more patient. My clothes fit better. I am healthier.
So I would expect this to be a positive feeback loop kind of thing. I do it, I feel better, so I’m even more enthusiastic about doing it. The people around me encourage and support my efforts to do it. Life is good.
After 30 some odd years, you would think that exercise would be as important to me as eating or sleeping in on Sunday mornings.
But it doesn’t work that way for me.
Exercise always feels like a guilty luxury. The time I spend working out or going to my Kung Fu class really should be spent reading stories to my children, cleaning the house, writing proposals or, possibly, it might be acceptable for me to be volunteering at a children’s hospital or something.
The logical part of my brain knows this is silly. I get more done when I exercise, not less. But I’m not entirely logical.
Clearly.
