It’s sad, really.
Because I actually like working out. I like feeling my heart step up to the plate and the sense of strength and energy that sings through my muscles. I love that good tired feeling that settles into my bones afterwards and, as someone living with depression, I’m never going to turn my nose up at a heady rush of exercise endorphins.
I like working out. I really do. But I don’t work out. Not lately.
So…why not? Honestly, I don’t have a good answer for you. What I do have is a list of my go-to excuses and why each one is pretty much a load of crap.
Excuse Number One: I am too tired to work out.
Well, yeah. I am tired. I had a baby four months ago and I have a very active six-year-old who almost NEVER. STOPS. TALKING. My girls, beloved though they are, run me pretty damn ragged sometimes. Moms are tired. Moms have been tired since we were scooping up our babies and running away from saber-toothed tigers. But, dude, at least running away from predatory tigers was good cardio.
The truth is that while I am tired all the time I also know that when I am working out consistently I have SO MUCH MORE ENERGY. And not only do I have more energy but my sleep is much more restful. The truth is that consistent exercise makes me feel less tired. So there goes excuse number one.
Excuse Number Two: I don’t have time to work out.
It’s true. I’m busy. Kids? Yup. Housework? Yes. Outside commitments? Lots. I don’t have very many 20 to 30 minute chunks of time in my typical day available for working out. But let’s be honest. Last night, after both my girls were sleeping, I spent at least two hours on the couch mindlessly hopping back and forth between Facebook and Instagram. So…
The truth is that I do have some free time. It’s also true that I am not always making the best use of that limited free time. In my defense, I totally do need time to veg out and turn off my brain after momming all day and trying to stay on top of my dumpster-fire of a house. But isn’t working out a perfect way to clear my head? Far more productive than staring at my phone. I can find 20 minutes, three times a week, to squeeze in a few workouts. No question. Too-da-loo, excuse number two.
Excuse Number Three: I don’t have any decent workout gear.
Yes, my boobs are monstrous big and all my sports bras suck. Yes, I rarely buy myself a pair of shoes that are appropriate for exercise. I needed new workout clothes before I even got pregnant and that was over a year ago.
But guess what? I can buy all of that. We have money. That I’m a cheapskate and cringe at the thought of dropping legit cash for decent workout gear is not a good reason not to buy it. They make bras that will keep my boobs from bouncing wildly about when I run. I just have to go buy one. We can afford shoes. Tanks. Yoga pants. We’re not paupers. We’re very blessed. And so falls excuse number three.
Excuse Number Four: I don’t have a good place or space to work out.
Through my husband’s job our entire family has prime membership to a community center with a state of the art gym, kick-ass fitness classes and an amazing pool. They also offer child care. I have a damn place to work out. And, seriously, if I am too lazy to load us up and drive the ten minutes it takes to get there then I also have a living room and Amazon Prime. All have to do is shove all our crap out the way and turn on the television. I have yoga mats and blocks and assorted exercise gadgets. That I have no place or space in which to work out is straight up bull. And so is excuse number four.
Excuse Number Five: My kids won’t let me work out.
If any of my excuses had half a shot at being legit it would be this one. My children demand my time and attention from the time they wake up until the time they go to bed. In fact, in the time since I’ve tried to type this short little piece out, I have been interrupted approximately ONE MILLION times. It is practically impossible to find 20 minutes of the day when my kids aren’t going to need me for something.
But I can figure it out. I can even include them. We can take a walk or make it a game. And if it doesn’t happen while the kids are awake then I can surely spare 20 minutes of the time I would otherwise spend loafing on the couch watching Netflix in the evening. I can just as easily work out while watching Netflix. Win, win. My kids don’t stop me from working out. I just don’t make enough of an effort to make it happen. Excuse number five, we bid you adieu.
So there you have it. I have no excuses. I have no good reason whatsoever not to take care of my children’s mother. I have no good reason not to honor my body. I have no good reason not to work toward a more solid hot-mom status.
I guess I’m off to make myself a workout schedule. The fire has been lit, people. The fire has been lit.