My life is a construction zone. I should wear yellow and black at all times to warn potential friends and acquaintances that work is being done and may or may not be completed. I generally only finish things to about 85%, and then there’s only a 50% chance of that. Problem is, I love to start new things, but finishing them doesn’t hold the same appeal, excitement and butterflies-in-my-stomach intensity. I trip over myself to get to Joann’s to buy needle nose pliers and 24 gauge silver wire, only to forget what exactly I was going to do with them. Polymer clay and jump rings? Same story. It also happens with chores around the house. A few days ago, I found myself with some unexpected free time and used it to finally start cleaning out the drawers in my room that wouldn’t shut to make room for Fall clothes. I was so delighted by my own ambition. Sure I could have watched the Real Housewives episode that was calling my name from the DVR, or I could have lost myself in Pinterest or I could have done one of my 500 projects-in-waiting. But no, I did the responsible thing and started the Big Seasonal Switch that has to happen when you live in a house with closets made for Smurf clothes. Our off-season clothes have to stay in the attic. Bringing them down at the same time as our in-season clothes makes us look like we are exceeding the occupancy limit for a single family home, so I have no choice but to first move the Summer stuff up, then bring the Fall stuff down if we want room to walk around here. IM-freaking-POSSIBLE. Because of a little something I like to call self-diagnosed ADD. My ability to stay on task is made possible only by existing in a white padded room. And even then, I would find myself examining the stitches on the padding to avoid finishing the work at hand. It’s almost like I don’t like achievement. If there were an award for most ambitions, then would I be a real winner!
This morning I had a lightbulb moment. It wasn’t a 100 watt bulb… more of a chandelier bulb, but a bulb all the same. When I woke up I picked up my phone and instead of checking the weather, email or my ebay auctions as usual, I went to Pinterest and checked the “Fitness” page. Why I was possessed to do that, I have no idea. Possessed is the only word to explain why that would have happened. I didn’t even know they had a Fitness page but something made me do it. Back story: As with everything, starting a workout routine has the same sparkle to it every time I pick it back up after a period of abandonment. New shoes! New sports bras! Find the yoga mat! Whee! And then I go down that roller coaster of endorphin-induced emotions and find that if I have to trudge back up the proverbial hill, I would be better off just starting a new hobby that doesn’t have any hills. There’s a “but” here, and it’s big enough to have an extra “t” in it. This time, I’ve decided it’s not just for me. It’s for my kids. And nothing makes me move my caboose more than needing to do something for my kids. I am their primary example. They spend more time face-to-face with me than anyone else and if anyone is going to show them how to live well, it has to start here. I am a huge advocate of living a healthy lifestyle, but pure exercise has not been a way of life around here, and I am ready for it to be. Evan still has the enthusiasm for the outdoors of a kid not yet affected by video games and I need to capitalize on that before it slips away. And I need to show him that my big ideas can be reality and that when you work for something, it can be done. Follow-through produces results. (Right?) If only I could convince myself first.
So here was the actual lightbulb moment: I saw a piece of jewelry on the Pinterest fitness page that was metal stamped with roman numerals and a tiny rhinestone. I checked out the picture more closely because I thought it was pretty, yet seemed to be mis-filed. It said “XXVI.II” Working through that, I read “26.2”. Since this is a fitness inspiration page (lightbulb flickering here), I think that must be how long a marathon is! At Evan’s school recently, I’ve noticed several people have bumper stickers that say “26.2” and I thought it looked like a bible verse or something, which was odd because, well, you know. But now I see! Those people are runners! There are people (with kids who have to be at school at 9am just like mine) getting out of bed and putting one foot in front of the other and at the end of it, they can say they accomplished something totally insane. My own personal “total insanity” would be just moving that decimal point over a little and pushing through 2.62. A minithon we’ll say. Maybe I could do it 10 times and add them up.
So where do I start? Step 1: Log the eff off the computer. Step 2: Move your body. Step 3: Enjoy the reward. Sounds simple enough. Where are my new running shoes? In my mind (lit by a single environmentally-friendly chandelier bulb), they are starting to sparkle again.
To be continued…so pardon my progress…