I Am Not a Slug-Beast

I intended to write my post last night, so that it would be ready to go first thing this morning. I’ve been trying hard to stick with my newly self-imposed schedule of posting on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. And I particularly wanted to stick to the schedule this week because last week was a bit of a “fail” on my part. Anyhow, I love it when I can get my posts written up a day or so ahead of time so that I can get them up on my blog first thing in the morning. It makes me feel really accomplished for the whole day, even though it’s such a little thing. But hey, bricks are little things, right? And they can build huge buildings if you stack them all together.

But … I thought and thought and thought yesterday … and then, thought some more … and could not come up with anything I wanted to write about for my blog post today. I know — unbelievable! On any given day, there are gazillions of ideas floating around in my brain. Okay, so maybe not “gazillions”, but, you know, at least three or four at a time. Maybe five, if I’m feeling particularly productive or lucky. However, on the day I actually want to sit down and take time to write my post … Yeah. Nothing. Big, fat GOOSE EGG of ideas. Ugh. My brain is so annoying. I swear, if I didn’t need her for stuff like breathing and keeping my heart beating, I would break up with her. She’s a diva and a half.

Anyhow, I thought about it again today and still had nothing. So I am going to write about my exercise struggles. I know, I know: BORING! But it’s all I’ve got. I guess you can direct your complaints to my brain, although I can tell you right now that she will just ignore them.


I’ve been quite the slug-beast lately with my exercise routine. Over the past several weeks, I’ve been struggling to get in just three days a week of working out. Also, I think I walked my dogs maybe three times in the last two weeks. (Bad dog owner! Bad!) So, I told myself this past weekend that I needed to make some changes. I needed to kick myself in the butt and get moving once again. And, by “moving”, I mean consistently doing some form of exercise for around an hour to hour and a half at least five times a week. Before the post-holiday doldrums, I had been pretty consistent with working out six days a week. I had been hoarding my steps and counting them at the end of every day like a rich man counts his money bags. I felt so good about this, too. I felt accomplished and healthier and just overall great about myself.

What can I say? When I fall off the wagon, I fall HARD.

But I told myself there were no more excuses. I told myself over the weekend that it was one last weekend of “fun” and not working out, and then we were going to hit the week on a more positive note and make some great changes. I felt pretty terrific about this. (What can I say? It was a really good mental pep talk.) I just knew I was going to hit the ground running once Monday morning rolled around and my family was back to our normal school day schedule. Heart, body, and brain, I was all in on this plan. It was going to be GREAT!!!


Yeah. It totally didn’t happen. I think my brain conveniently forgot that she had also signed up for the new and improved “let’s not be a slug-beast” program. Monday morning rolled around, bright and early. The alarm clock went off, like it always does. And my brain said, “Meh. I didn’t sleep well last night. Let’s stay in bed.” And so we did. Not super late, but until around 9 AM, at which point I had to get moving on all the errands I had to do before my kiddo got out of school. My brain pretended to be all upset and sad about the fact that, suddenly, there was no time left for exercise. Honestly, it wasn’t very convincing. Looking back on it now, I can definitely feel the smug condescension that was happening at the time.

Tuesday happened. And my brain said she had a sinus headache. Well, this was true. There’s been a lot of thunderstorm activity lately, and that stuff is hell on the sinuses. And so, my brain and I, once again, stayed in bed until the ripe hour of 9AM. We swore (swore!!) we were going to exercise in the evening. We had it all planned out that we would spend at least 40 minutes running on the Precor. Did this happen? Of course not. Because my brain started watching Miami Vice. And she didn’t want to stop until it was time to go to bed. My brain can be pesky like that.


Today is Wednesday — WEDNESDAY!!. I went to bed last night with the sinking realization that we were quickly approaching “hump day”, and we had not exercised at all. I already felt like a failure for the week. My brain didn’t seem to care much. She hummed along as usual, blissfully in denial over how we had failed to conquer this week and vault out of our sluggish habits.

But today, I wasn’t taking any crap from my brain. I let her sleep in until 8 AM, and then made her get up, even though she was terribly unhappy about it. I let her surf a forum and watch a nail video on YouTube. After that, she was all, “Oh, I’m hungry. It’s time for breakfast.” But did I give in to this? NO!!

I told my brain that it was put up or shut up time. If we didn’t go for our walk today, we were basically never getting out of our rut. My brain is actually fine with this, but I am not. And so, we headed out for our walk. A bit later than I would have liked … and we weren’t happy about it … but we made it out the door.

Truthfully, it was a pretty terrible walk. I was in a pissy mood pretty much the whole way. Plus, I was starving by the time we got back to my house. Neither my brain nor I had any fun, in spite of the weather being a bit chilly and wet, which is my favorite. By the time we got home, my brain and I had decided we would have to co-exist silently. She’s still not speaking to me. But, underneath it all, I think she feels pretty darn accomplished. I know I do. I haven’t yet told her we have to do the whole thing all over again tomorrow. I’m a bit afraid of what she might do, so I’ll wait until morning to break it to her.

Oh, and the dogs had a good time, too. Really, isn’t that all that matters? Happy dogs … happy life. Or something like that.



2 thoughts on “I Am Not a Slug-Beast

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