...is GOING to the gym.
I’ve belonged to the gym on and off for years. I even go. Sometimes. At least I always have good intentions of going. At the beginning of the contract, I have big aspirations of going every single day and seeing results in hours. Then, it tapers off to just during the week, and hoping for the results in weeks. I even try to schedule it on my calendar. Unfortunately, I cancel the “going to the gym” way quicker than I ever would a doctors appointment or a meeting with colleagues.
I was in one of those ruts the end of last year. I feigned being too busy and not having enough time. Eventually, I stopped going. I would feel totally guilty when I drove past it. I asked my accountant if I could write off my monthly membership as a donation.
Then something happened. My 42nd birthday. I began thinking that we only get one life, and one body, and I should try to take better care of it.
I’ve been given second chances. I looked down the rabbit hole and beat breast cancer. I’ve had scares since then. I have come out on the other side and want to do something to insure I can be the best person that I can be.
I think I have figured it out. The hardest part about going to the gym is actually GOING to the gym. Getting dressed and getting in the car. Once I am there, it’s easy to do.
Perhaps I should list on my calendar: dress in workout clothes and get in car.
The rest will follow.