It’s interesting how a few hours of sleep can improve your perspective on a situation.
A couple of nights ago I had what I considered to be one of the worst workouts I’ve had to date; between not feeling well, technical difficulties, and an overwhelming sense of crankiness, I was ready to scratch the eyes out of the next person who dared talk to me.
To make matters worse the gym TV was set to Restaurant Makeover and I was forced to listen to the same piano run over and over again…
I had dark thoughts about Hell’s Waiting Room.
Luckily for all involved, I managed to keep myself in check. So well in fact, that none of the gym bunnies present had a clue how narrowly they’d escaped my fearsome (and toddler-like) crankiness.
So. My exercise muse had ditched me.
I was well into revenge fantasy number 2 by the time I’d made the elevator ride back to the apartment. Seriously, I was just.. done. The heart monitor was chaffing, and maybe it’s too much information but I honestly thought I was going to have to deal with raw and tender skin for days afterwards, and who needs that? My contacts itched. I had a cramp in one of my toes, and did I mention the yuck factor of cooling sweat?
And then sweet man o’ mine decided to step up to the plate and draw me away from my drama.
He told how well I’d done and how most people who were suffering from such an allergic reaction would’ve quit partway through the weight training and not even got on the treadmill. How I had a full month of training ahead of me and it’s amazing how much you can accomplish in a month…
He even tried his hand at a motivational speech.
It was good.
Really good.
Had I been in any other state of mind I would’ve mellowed out right there and then, and that would’ve been the end of it. Instead the tiredness and the crankiness worked against me and suddenly all the possible ways I could fail came tumbling in on me.
The Insecurity Fairy had landed, and brought her full arsenal of tricks.
I knew I’d hit bottom (so to speak) when I made some pathetically insecure comment about bathing suits and cellulite that was basically screamed out my need for reassurance. I think even the Yowler rolled his eyes at that one.
It was definitely time to go to bed.
The next morning, all I could do was shake my head and wonder how I’d managed to tie myself into knots like that.
And the workout last night? One of the best I’ve had so far…
