It’s Saturday. I wake up feeling refreshed, a feeling that I only seem to get two days a week, if that. I’m puttering around the house and kind of mulling my possible schedule around in my head, slotting pieces this way and that to come up with a cohesive whole.
I’m munching on some candy corn (how is there some even still left in the house?) and sipping on my morning Coke Zero. Trader Joe’s, Walgreens and the library have all made my beginning-of-day list. I had thought about getting a walk in — I mean, that’s what I said that I was going to do — but it’s still dark out and spitting rain and there’s nothing I want to do less than go outside.
And here’s where yesterday’s intentions turn into today’s inaction. I feel like I’m justified in skipping the walk right now — after all, it’s not like I’m going to just be sitting around watching TV — and I even half-promise to myself that I’ll do something a little later. To hold myself to it, I opt to not take a shower before running my errands. My brain equates “unwashed” with “ready to exercise”, apparently.
Starting on Monday, I’m scheduled for five days of Orange Theory. I’ve promised myself (I keep agreeing to things that my future self will have to carry out) that there will be no canceling, though I’m already considering a friend’s advice to only do four days instead of five. I’m not sure whether that’s backsliding on my promise or just being pragmatic and smart.
For right now, for this day, I’ll still intend to get out. Or, get on the treadmill (there’s no shame in staying inside!). How can I fail on my first day of my rest of the decade promises, right?