I’m always motivated about getting to the gym first thing in the morning, as I’m drifting off to sleep. I sometimes visualise what my workout is going to be, and most times I feel pumped and ready to hit it out the park the next morning.
Sometimes though, I wake up and discover that everything has changed. Between going to bed motivated, and waking up eight hours later, somehow the enthusiasm for endorphins has morphed into the enthusiasm for layers and snuggling.
It happens. I have a day like this every 8-10 days, and I’m learning not to let these days throw me off. My usual tendency used to be to fight it and berate myself for it, such that whether I ended up dragging my ass to the gym or not, I felt a bit shitty. Nowadays I have become easier on myself, with allowing the odd day off when I get to bunk and stay in spontaneously. Just because I woke up feeling like it. But something else is changing too. I also had this need to quickly cancel the gym outing altogether just because I didn’t make it out the door in that sweet spot between 6.45 and 7 am (so I can hit the treadmill by 7.15 am so everything works in perfect clockwork). Of late though if I’m late to rise and feeling the need to slowly ease into a workout state of mind rather than jump right out of bed and get going, I give myself that time. And I leave things open, to decide later on.
Today was one of those days. I stayed in bed. And I stayed and I stayed, for a whole hour past my usual time and at 8 am, I decided I was ready to go. My habit-driven, routine-bound mind and body usually gets very thrown by such shifts, and I have the idea in my head that my workout will not be good. Of course this is the unnecessary perfectionist in me at work, rearing her head again and again, trying hard to regain the control she’s fast losing.
I don’t give in to her as easily anymore.
I made it to the gym, in what I thought wasn’t the best mood or energy. But to my surprise, I did my fastest 5k today. I’ve been wanting to switch things around with running too, try something more and push myself just a bit. I upped things a teeny notch today, adding a mere minute to each of my sprints, unsure if I’d be able to sustain it till the end. And here’s the bit I forget: the way that I have been running with regularity, it adds up. And even the tiniest sliver of pushing, every little minute adds up.
I’m beginning to feel this way about progress in general. All upward movement, every little change, growth itself. I’m learning to appreciate the small wins that take time, are slow to come, but when they show up, feel immense. Not in quantity or in value, but in sheer progression.
I am savouring the small victories. Because they add up. They matter.
My quickest run yet. Just sooooo close to meeting the 5.5 km mark in 35 minutes. That’s going to be next milestone to work towards, I guess.
It was one of those one-small-step-in-the-running-universe-one-giant-leap-for-Rere kind of mornings for me. And I’m not just talking about the running here.