I’ve spent a few weeks just building the habit of walking regularly on the treadmill, fifteen minutes a day (baby steps, remember). Then I did a few long walks. Monday, I finally ran.
Well, jogged. Slowly. A little above a walk.
Did the same Tuesday. And today.
It feels really, really good.
I use Zombies, Run (Abel Township is very glad to have me back after my illness, I am sure–things were in disrepair) combined with my own playlists. Toward the end of the run or walk or whatever I’m doing, I always hit the last five minutes and do. not. want. to. keep. going.
Doesn’t matter if I’ve been there for fifteen minutes, thirty, forty, or an hour. I will come up with a hundred reasons why I should just quit early. I’ve done enough, I’m tired, I’m bored, blah blah blah. Oh there’s a thing I should do, maybe I could just stretch for a bit. I know this about me and as soon as I give in and quit early, the next time I will quit earlier, and soon I’ll convince myself I can start skipping days. It goes downhill from there.
So on my playlist, I usually cycle to particular songs at particular times to keep me motivated. The last few minutes, when I want to quit?
Florence + The Machine. Shake It Off.
It’s my song when I’m exhausted and hopeless and need a kick to just embrace the dark and the demons and the suck and dance anyway. Little by little, my speed picks up, until I hit the bridge.
And I’m damned if I do and I’m damned if I don’t
So here’s to drinks in the dark at the end of my road
And I’m ready to suffer and I’m ready to hope
It’s a shot in the dark aimed right at my throat
‘Cause looking for heaven, found the devil in me
Looking for heaven, found the devil in me
Well what the hell I’m gonna let it happen to me, yeah
That is probably the fastest part of my run, when gaze is locked on the gazebo outside and brain completely empties of thought and I end up just flying. It carries me to the end of the run (or mission, I should say).
So it’s New Year’s Eve. I’m going to watch Psych reruns on Netflix and finish a short story (maybe), eat some pastry appetizers (definitely), and sneak a screwdriver (I am not supposed to have alcohol but I’m pretty sure one mixed drink won’t kill me), and shake off the good and the bad and all of 2014.
Have a good evening/morning/what have you, boys and girls, and may 2015 be kind.