Well, it's more precise to say I hate going to the gym.
I love exercise. It's part of my life now.
But going to the gym. It took entirely too much of my time. Yes, I used past tense, because I'm not going any more. It was a huge weight off my shoulders when I was home yesterday, the Friday after Thanksgiving, having blown off going to the gym, when I realized, you know what? There's nothing compelling me to go. I want to be at home. I want to do yoga and watch the cats. I want to work on a poem I'm writing as part of a friend's wedding gift. I don't have to go! So I'm not gonna go! I'm free!
Felt good.
At the end of the work day, driving 25 minutes to the gym, working out for an hour when the trainer would have loved two, driving home another half hour...I was lucky to have dinner by 7. It left me so little time in the evening for myself.
And...at the gym, you can't find your own head-space. I know that sounds like some kind of 70's hippy jargon, but it's true. Too many people, too many TVs, too much erratic energy. At home, I'm relaxed, I am in my own space, with my own voice...
I love that.
My work out is so much better when it's peaceful.
Today I rose early, did some yoga, worked with some weights, tortured my abs, had a lovely shower...went to the cool little coffee shop I frequent on Saturdays, sat in the window with my cappuccino and novel, flirted with a cute guy a little bit...ahhhhh....
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2 comments:
Bravo!
I've recently quit the gym, too.
Well, semi-quit.
I may still go for yoga on Fridays.
In general, though, it kinda mostly sucked the morning away. It's been freeing to be able to *do* stuff (and then sit down and watch "Super Why" with Meg) rather than frantically scuttle out the door.
I have neglected this blog, so what a treat to come by, and realize that someone still reads it! Thank you!
We must chat soon...and I must visit your blog to catch up on the babies...
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