Because I have to..

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes I do!”

“No…”

“But if I don’t…”

Then what? Really? This little interchange takes place at least once a week upon waking up – between yours truly and the observant, caring man in my life with a keen ability to pick up on patterns I frequently fail to detect.  In this case, it’s a gnawing itch to get out of bed and MOVE. SWEAT. HUFF. PUFF.  I’ve adhered to this ritual since my teens, thanks in large part to the fabulous Ms. Fonda (what girl wasn’t inspired by the high-cut belted leotard and spiffy legwarmers can-can kicking in an airy Soho-inspired studio?). These were the 80s, after all, when aerobics reigned supreme and carbs were king. Time and wisdom have since led me to joint-friendly yoga and a ‘protein is your friend’ diet since my all or nothing days, but I’m still struggling to let go of this daily workout fix/obsession.

In spite of aching calves (from a recent run in the dark with a feeble flashlight), a full-orchestra symphony performing in my belly (tortilla chips and chocolate for dinner will do that to you), and sea of pillows killing me with comfort, I still felt like launching out of bed (head rush be damned) and going full tilt into yet another workout.  But, thankfully, I paused long enough to pay attention to this very moment, listen to my partner, and really try to answer his question: “what will happen if you don’t work out today? Really?”

1. Slackerdom feelings will creep in (I am an X-genner, after all), but will dissipate within 24 hours (in time for the next workout)

2. Body will relax and rejuvenate, and perform better tomorrow

3. BF will appreciate the calmer, gentler version of me

4. I’ll have saved enough class fee cash for a pair of fuzzy retro legwarmers

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