Dang! I missed my workout – again!
Come on man a day leads to a week to a fortnight and so on
I’m crashed on the couch, and it’s not the good kind of crash. The cushions lack that indulgent give I enjoy after a tough workout. Instead, the weak squish reminds me of the laziness I sense inside. I’ve fought to avoid this feeling most my life. This limpness of will saps my energy. I’m too tired to exercise but too desperate to be OK with it. I want a rest, from both my lethargy and the guilt of missing yet another workout.
Fact: I don’t always feel like exercising
“I’m just too tired today,” I tell myself as I roll onto my other side to quiet the gnaw at my lower back. My exhaustion makes sense. Forty years have escorted me to the other shore of life, and I’m ramping down into peri-menopause. Hormones are ebbing. Energy is waning. Plus, since I manage Bi-Polar disorder, it’s taken a few months…
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