So true, so true.
For some reason, I continue to have conversations regarding workout motivation with people I know. Seems odd……or at least it seems odd if you’ve happened to have known me most of my life.
Physical fitness was never at the top of my “important things to do before I die” list.
However, since fitness apparently keeps my perpetual clock ticking by reducing my blood pressure, at this point it’s something I’m kind of required to do.
Sure, I could stop and just kill myself the long, slow, and hard way – until I die of a heart attack. Or stroke. Or both.
But……
I do find that I actually enjoy working out.
REALLY!
Not sure why. It could be the endorphins, it could be the challenge, it could be the desire to appear attractive to others, it could be lots of things.
I find that changing my motivation helps me keep focus. I read some books on “making things happen in your life” and I also find that this could be applied (in my case) to working out:
Give yourself a goal. A tangible, specific goal. Not the “I want to lose weight – just because I want to lose weight” goal. That goal never helped anyone. It’s too easy to backslide.
My first goal (last year) was to weigh what I weighed in high school, by my next birthday. At the time I think it was February, and my birthday was in December, so that gave me a good enough span of time to make the goal – even with some backsliding. I weighed 165 through the majority of high school.
Did I make it? *Everyone is holding their breath*
Yes – at the time, I did. As vain as I am, I’m very surprised that I didn’t take any pictures of my bulging biceps. While I weighed what I did in high school, I was considerably more muscled. But then, with my father getting progressively worse, and moving up here in February, and then eventually passing away – I lost all desire to work out. Depression and anxiety screwed up it all up (understandably). Now, five months later, I find myself working back into it. I swore to myself that I would never get as big as I did (and I’ve already downsized my wardrobe into smaller sizes than I’ve ever worn so I HAVE to fit into them or else buy a whole new wardrobe again)
Let’s cycle through some (not all) of my goals (rotating):
* Be fit enough not to be the “fat rockabilly guitar player”
* Fit enough that both ladies and dudes totally are impressed with my manly physique
* Fit enough that I don’t have the tummy bulge poking out of the size shirt that I should be wearing when I’m walking past the freezer case and unconsciously suck in my gut each time to hide it
* Fit enough that I don’t gasp for air when performing any laborious activity (not limited to hide and seek, wrestling with my daughter, changing the oil in my car, climbing on the roof, etc, etc, etc)
* Fit enough that I could hold my own in a bar fight
* Fit enough that I can eat garbage and junk food (occasionally) and not feel bad about it truly deep down because I’m busting my ass working out.
* Fit enough that if Sabina Kelley got divorced and made an appearance in my town, I would totally sweep her off her feet (with my muscles – and my charm – but my muscles would do the heavy lifting).
That’s but a few.
This whole process was made easier because I’ve essentially got a trainer. One of my best friends works out pretty much five days a week. He’s told me his goals – and I kid you not – they are no more or less as plain as mine. It’s the desire and motivation that will get you there. When I have questions, I ask him. If he doesn’t know, we go look it up. Granted, he hasn’t designed workout plans for me, but he just suggests places to look and things to try. It’s my desire that makes me go and try whatever it is I find.
I hope in some way I can inspire someone to help themselves out – like the way my friend did.
Starting slow and easy, and then worked my way into doing more.
I always remember the saying, “Doing a little of something is better than doing nothing at all”.
