I’m an Animal, I’m a Robot, I’m an Anibot

We’ve switched up our gym routine a bit, which I’m very pleased about. We’ve been going at night for many months now, but we weren’t going as often as I would have wished. Finally, about two weeks ago, I realized that I couldn’t base my gym attendance on Bart’s attendance. I needed to go, whether or not he was going to go. I’d been using him as an excuse for not going – if he said he was too tired or too full or not in the mood to run, I’d figure I might as well not go either.

Shortly thereafter, Bart voiced his feelings about going to the gym in the evenings (namely, he hates it, apparently). He’s too tired, he’d rather stay at home and relax, and he’s often still full from dinner. He would rather go in the morning, because he’s more motivated to go then and it starts his day off in a way that he enjoys.

As for me, I’d rather die than go to the gym or exercise in any form in the morning. It sounds all well and good on Sunday night to think “this week I’ll go every morning at six a.m.” but when Monday morning rolls around, I realize there is nothing in the world I’d like less than to leap from my warm bed and dash out to exercise. I struggle with morning nauseousness (and I have since high school, where I would routinely stop brushing my teeth and abruptly lie on the bathroom floor until I felt like I could stand up without passing out or throwing up – it’s a very pleasant way to start the morning, let me tell you). Even if I don’t feel terrible in the morning, I do feel too dizzy or lousy to actually do very much rigorous exercising. But night – it’s fantastic. Since I’ve started working out at night (last last fall), I’ve been a more consistent exerciser than I’ve ever been in my life. It’s a great way for me to end the day – my body feels up to it, it helps me unwind, and I sleep like a rock. I know that I will not follow-through if I try to run in the mornings, which leads to much self-loathing and unhappiness. But night? Everyone wins! I’m so pleased to have finally found something that works for me.

My goal is to go to the gym four to five times a week. It’s Wednesday, and I’ve already been twice. THAT is a good feeling (I didn’t go tonight because I fell asleep while Bart was gone and when I woke up I felt like my brain had turned into pudding, so I figured tonight was as good a night as any to skip). I’ve been going a little earlier so that I have a full hour to run for 30-35 minutes, do some various sit-ups/push-ups/stretching, and then weight lift until the gym closes at ten.

It’s a good way to live.