This year, I’m going to redouble my efforts to exercise. I was very pleased that when I went to visit my parents over Christmas, my mother commented that I had noticeably larger biceps and definition in my chest when she saw me in a t‑shirt. Biceps yes, but I’m sceptical of any significant change in my chest. She’d most easily notice because my drive to exercise had happened entirely since the last time I saw her.
Still, my use of the exercise machine has fallen off to perhaps three times a week. While this is leaps and bounds above my exercising habits in previous years, which were non-existent, I want to do better. I’ve increased my time to thirty minutes, and have started a log of the time I put in, reps I complete, and calories I burn. Keeping track will encourage me to keep up the work because failing to do so will be very obvious. I can’t fool myself or rationalize away days of missed exercise. And I just love statistics. Maybe graphs too!
The danger is that I’m setting myself up to fail, and if I do, I’ll be discouraged and drop it entirely. This is exactly what I’ve done in the past so I’ll have to be flexible and see what works for me.
Something occurred to me that factors into my wanted to exercise. I realize that while I’m certainly no athlete, I have never been in better shape in my life. I feel better than ever and I believe it’s translated into a more positive outlook about the future, which feeds back and makes me want to be more fit.
I’ve only got one life, and I’ve decided that I’m in this for the long haul. There’s too much to live for.