In the first half of 2006, I was doing a twenty-minute workout, three times a week, nearly without fail. And I enjoyed it. A lot more than I ever thought I would—I’d started working out out of necessity, and had fully expected to hate it. But I somehow managed to stumble onto an activity that I actually liked. And it was good for me, physically and emotionally.
But then things fell apart, and I fell out of the routine.
I’ve been wanting to get it back ever since, but it just hasn’t been possible. I’ve tried to keep active, but I’ve been very aware that all the gains I’d made in those workouts were fading.
This morning, I made my first tentative steps toward re-establishing that particular routine.
It’s still going to be some time before I’m back where I was. (Any illusions I had of jumping straight back into the old routine have been successfully dashed by this morning’s workout.) It’s going to take me a couple of weeks to figure out how, exactly, to fit it in around my writing. But, tired and sore as I am right now, I can’t wait for Wednesday.
(And, no: I’m not going to spend a lot of time talking about this. Twitter updates when I feel like it, but that’ll be the extent of it. I’m just giddy right now, and had to share.)
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