I had a post all set to go this week, talking about how I need to get back to yoga. I’ve never practiced regularly really, but I like it. It doesn’t really matter because I’m re-writing to say this:
This week I took the dog for a long walk through the woods, and it felt good. I love the Fall, I love the breezes and the sunshine, it’s my favourite season. Then, later that same day, feeling good from my walk and fresh air, I discovered I was out of eggs, which I needed for a recipe. It occurred to me that I could take my bike to the store to get said eggs. Why not? It’s been too long since I took a bike ride with vacations and rainstorms and humidity. Why not take my bike?
And that is why I am now sitting here, covered in sweat, legs of jelly feeling every inch useless and out of shape.
I am so fucking tired of starting over again.
I let myself get away with it. I let myself fail my body over and over again. I start and I stop and then starting feels like this.
I fail over and over again at taking care of myself. I take my bike out and wonder why it’s so hard. Why is it so hard?
Well Amy, you haven’t been exercising, you don’t eat very well, especially in the mornings. How many days has it been dinner time when you realize you haven’t fed yourself?
There’s no one else to blame here.