I do it, and I do it big. Here's to not forgetting about it.

Posts tagged ‘Working Out’

In The Beginning Was The Word.

*looks up*

Forgive me, Lord, if I end up blaspheming in this post. I’m thinking really hard about what I write here. If I’m wrong about anything, please show me. Thanks for inspiring others to invent delete and backspace.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was with God in the beginning. 3 Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. 4 In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. 5 The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome[a] it.

Beginnings are a big deal. Not that you can’t have a great ending without a great beginning, but oh man, getting the beginning right often makes things that much easier. It is my duty as a Christian to constantly keep the Life-giver at the forefront of my thoughts. As 2019 has started, I am already finding myself overwhelmed and defeated, although I shared in my last post that I have no objective reason to feel this way. The thing about life is that you can have a great day but then you go to sleep, knowing that you have to set yourself up to have another great day. If tomorrow itself is not guaranteed, surely a great tomorrow is far from certain.

So what can I do to not throw in the towel on January 14? Resist.

I’ve chosen resist as my word of the year because I have found that when I choose not to resist, it is when I get into trouble. I must resist –

  • the temptation to overeat.
  • believing that progress is always linear.
  • comparing myself to others.
  • allowing the evil one to steal my joy.
  • minimizing my accomplishments.
  • not prioritizing my time.

I can only make one good decision at a time. When I pray the Lord’s prayer, I ask for my daily bread – not weekly, not yearly. While I can plan for the future, I cannot know what it holds. I want to honor God with my body. I want to serve others with my gifts, even though I feel so much of the time that I don’t have very much to offer. He can use anyone, even lil Joanie, to accomplish His will, and I definitely don’t want to be in the way.

This week, I have 16 miles on the calendar. It has been well over a year since I have run 16 miles in one week and I am terrified. I wasn’t too pleased with how slow my long run was on Saturday, but I am choosing to remind myself that practice for the big day isn’t always going to be pleasurable. I imagine that it’s quite normal for a workout to feel like WORK. It’s not even trying to pretend to be something else.

God is my light. I must resist succumbing to the darkness that has already been conquered. The war is won.

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Photo by Artem Saranin on Pexels.com

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Sometimes.

Sometimes I hit the nail right on the bloody head without trying. 

I’ve been thinking about how little i wrote in 2017. This is not a reflection of the amount I’ve had to say about the year.  Please. I’m a newlywed and a Democrat. I’ve got thoughts. What I have not had is motivation, and not just about writing. I feel like I haven’t been able to get myself to commit and stick with much of anything. I walked out of the gym a few days ago and spoke aloud to myself, as I often do. 

I’m like Matilda when she went to high school. I lost my powers when I went to the advanced level. 

My commute has literally quintupled and I’ve chosen to take on more work because, well, I like making money. That being said, while I suppose anything is possible and I can do anything I put my mind to and insert third encouraging platitude here, my abilities are not limitless. Adjusting to my new life is sucking up my discipline. I do not want to plan meals. I don’t want learn recital programs. I don’t want to plan to PR a race. That doesn’t mean I don’t wish to eat healthily, play the piano, or run races. I simply need the space right now to do so in a more casual manner. 

Sometimes, that’s okay. 

It has to be, otherwise, I just suck. This is my story, and no one is the villain in her own story, right?

What isn’t okay, at any time, is choosing to give up. In a conversation with a close friend, the following exited my mouth – 

Eating is the new dating.

Only a statement like that could be more loaded than my average 2017 plate. Literal and figurative. Going straight to the drive through from the gym gives me a sick thrill. Spontaneous and rebellious.  I have to plan so many things. It’s nice to not to have everything written down, kinda like single Joan didn’t know how the next date was going to go!

Alas, sometimes, I should reckon with the fact that I am a grown ass adult. Anticipating how my blood work will be is not quite as thrilling as the drive through decision. My doctor has already told me I need to do better, and I’ve taken action the best way I feel I can right now. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I am not in a place where I am willing to prep my food, so I’m trying a meal delivery service. It feels exorbitant, but let’s be real – so is eating out, as is buying vegetables that I don’t end up eating, not to mention the health care costs down the line if I don’t clean up my act. Someone is gonna get this cash – I may as well get the best results from it. 

Sometimes, you have to start over. 

Sometimes, you find an ideal quote for a post but hate that there is a comma splice. Sometimes, one must settle.

Y’all make me sick! Put it back in your tri shorts, I beg you

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This isn’t true! At least, of me. For one, I’ve been known to post a race or workout related status or two, tee hee. Moreover, when my friends are doing things they enjoy, why wouldn’t I want to read about it? Only a complete asshole someone who may be envious of one’s commitment to health and fitness would feel this way, right?

UNLESS.

Unless it becomes a bitch fest. Worse, a dick measuring contest. “No fair, my pace was slower than yours!” “Well, I may not have done THIS today, but I did THAT!” Oh, comment thread. You have a way of bringing out the worst in people. I’m not going to say that no one wants to read about that, but I know for damn sure I don’t.

“But Lady J,” you counter. “Aren’t you being a *tad* judgmental? You don’t know why s(he) posted those comments.” Of course I am! I judge all day. Real talk. Not in the “I am better than you are” way, but most definitely in the “I don’t want to be around that mess” way. We ALL do. Anyone who claims not to be judging in this sense is a liar and probably a hypocrite. But yes, dear reader, you are correct in saying that I cannot be sure why said comments were made. You’ve got to admit though, not all workout posts are alike. “I did really well today!” or even “Aw man that was pretty lame” reads very differently than “My pace was not as fast as this person’s” or “I could have done that but I was out doing THIS instead.”

How about we all put away our penises and rulers and just enjoy the growth that comes with pushing ourselves to be stronger and more fit?

Apparently, I’m a Total Bitch. Workout Edition

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Overheard at the gym:

(Spoken in most valley voice possible)
Chick: Oh. My. Gawd. This is, like, really hard. I can’t even, like, run a mile.

Now, as I work out, I’m pretty focused on what I’m doing. However, this chick’s voice KINDA grated on my ears. So I did what any normal woman would do. I checked her out.

Tiny waist. Big titties. Booty with personality. Long, flowing hair. Aside from her lack of running stamina, I know NOTHING about this woman. She could be very lovely. Or she could be as annoying as I found her voice to be. I don’t know, and honestly, that’s not really the point. But I am ashamed of what went through my head next.

“This heffa can’t even run a mile and she has that body? Lucky. BITCH.”

I have been blessed with many things. Not among my collection of blessings is the ability to not run a mile and still be hot. I’ve got to work hard as hell not to be a chocolate blob. Granted, everyone loves chocolate, but still. It feels like I can’t rest and there are people who walk this earth who can.

Of course, they can’t really. The “overweight” person who can run a mile is better off than the shapely, socially acceptably shaped person who cannot. What’s really scary is how pervasive these perceptions are – that it is better to be cute than healthy. They almost got me too, man. You really never know what someone is going through or has been through. This is my clarion call – do what you can to uplift those around you. Even the luckiest bitches.

So, to the chick at the gym – I am sorry I called you a bitch in my head! Keep coming and I’m sure you will be able to run that mile very soon! You will be better for it. Perhaps not as witty as I am, but hey, you can’t have everything.

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