I don’t feel good.
I don’t know if it’s the last five nights of night shift, the storms rolling through, or my body throwing out symptoms I don’t want to pay heed to.
It’s day two of my commitment to exercise every day – specifically to walk then run. Every day. From now until November.
Yesterday, I drove home from my travel assignment, unpacked, and fell into bed. By the time I woke up, it was pouring rain, with no end sight.
I was stuck with the dreadmill, because I made a commitment- to myself, first and foremost.
Today I awoke ill…and it was again pouring.
I spent the day resting and plying myself with a myriad of homeopathic treatments. Drinking water. Waiting for the rain to stop.
Finally, just after my dinner of rice and hibachi veggies, it did. Out I went.
I realize how much I’ve grown into this runners mentality…even though I’ve struggled to get back on track since my type 1 diabetes diagnosis.
The humidity is 92%, and that itself would have kept me inside at some point.
I have so many excuses.
Resolve must overcome.
Overcome the night shift/day shift fluctuations that keep me exhausted.
I must push through the Florida heat, humidity, and gnats.
I listen to an audiobook in one ear, and observe my surroundings as I quickly walk my 4.5 miles for the day.
Instead of focusing on the bad, I look for the good.
Mimosa trees, battered by the double deluge of today, with their leaves still folded in, protective.
A grand old crepe myrtle, weighed down with huge clumps of white flowers curved down at lovely angles.
Crossing a bridge and stopping to see the turtles, who rush over in the muddy waters, hoping I’ll throw them a snack.
All these things keep my mind off the humidity I used to curse, and that used to keep me from working out.
No more.
I’ve got goals – long and short term – and I’ll reach them.
One day at a time. I’ve done it before, going from a sedentary life to one where I’ve run 22 half marathons, and many other races, over the course of eight years.
Today I walked. Next week, the running program begins.
