I’ve had this weekly workout plan for the last month or so. It goes like this:
2 Ballet Classes
1 Long Hike
Every week it feels like a reasonable, moderately aggressive exercise plan. If I’m going to be ready for the 24-miles-in-one-day-holy-shit-what-am-I-thinking Rim-to-Rim Grand Canyon hike I’ve agreed to in October I need to keep my cardio up and hike at least once a week. If I’m going to have any hope of
ever being a professional ballerina who wears pretty outfits and dances on a stage for everyone to see not being the worst old lady ballerina in my class, I need to at least attempt class a couple of times a week. The hike is a good long term goal and the ballet just makes me happy. Running takes care of the cardio, the ballet works on the toning and the hiking is a good mixture of both.
But this is how it inevitably turns out:
Saturday – Head happily to ballet class at 9AM. I don’t have to get up too early to make it work and it just generally makes me cheerful.
Sunday – Peel myself out of bed at super-early-o-clock. Trudge 8-10 miles through the deserty mountains. Feel pretty good about how the hike went until I remember the Rim-to-Rim hike is three times the distance and elevation change. Gorge myself on fatty food and cocktails at lunch because ‘I earned it’, effectively negating all of the exercise benefits I might otherwise reap. Pay each of my children $5 to just be quiet for an hour while I nap. Go to bed early because the hike has almost killed me.
Monday – Alarm goes off at 4:50AM for running. Turn it off and have a heated internal dialogue about whether it’s worth it to get out of bed to go running:
I’m just still too tired and sore from the hike yesterday.
But if I don’t get up now I will have to run tomorrow and that means I’ll have to run two days in a row to get all three of my run days in this week. I hate running two days in a row.
I might go to the gym later and run on the treadmill. Then I could sleep another hour and a half.
Last time I ran on the treadmill the episode of MadMen I was watching was too boring to hold my attention and I quit 2 miles early. And the I went home and ate half a box of Cheez-its out of disgust for my own lameness.
I’ll be a happier human being if I just get up and run.
I’ll be a happier human being if I go back to sleep now.
Almost always fall back asleep halfway through berating myself.
Tuesday – Force myself out of bed completely by means of self-loathing. Act as my own Drill Sergeant, telling myself what a pathetic maggot I am until I want to punch my own face and finally get out of bed. Have a decent run and feel pretty good about myself.
Wednesday – Consider going to ballet class at night, but end up having to show property to 3 different clients and write two offers. Stay up late working and finish the night with several glasses of wine to wind down.
Thursday – Hurl phone across the room when alarm goes off at 4:50AM. Internal Drill Sergeant realizes this is not the morning to fuck with me and lets me go back to sleep. Wake up at 6:45AM when Jason is leaving for work and resolve to go to the gym later and run on the treadmill. Later, on the treadmill, resolve to never drink wine, stay up late or run on the treadmill again. It’s torture and it’s probably all Wine’s fault (I have a tendency to blame anything I feel guilty about on Wine). Quit a mile early and utterly loathe myself.
Friday – Don’t even try. Sleep in and promise I’ll be better the next week. Inner Drill Sergeant is at Krispie Kreme getting breakfast for both of us. He’s going to stop by the grocery store and buy OJ and champagne to go with. I’m probably going to have to fire him, but first we’re going to have a nice brunch. As soon as I finally get out of bed.
I’ve gotten really good at:
Is what I’m saying. Or moderately good. Actually I’m mostly good at the ballet and the hike on the weekend. I’m looking to hire a new Drill Sergeant. Any takers?