Given the time-shift of Daylight Savings and the fact that I went to bed later than I wanted, I really wasn't into going to the gym today.
But it's Monday.
I never skip a Monday.
There's something about Mondays that makes working out non-negotiable. I kick off the week on the right foot, and I don't start the week "coulda-shoulda-wouldaing."
I stepped on the scale this morning and was pleased to see that all the birthday weekend restaurant visiting and doggie-bag leftovers didn't do a thing to me.
(Oh, BTW, I bettered my walk time by nearly 4 minutes from last year's Run/Walk.)
And really, once I get to the gym, there's no point in half-assing it. I did a couple warmup miles on the recumbent bike while watching Maury Povich silently announce "You ARE the father!" (can't believe that show is still on!).
Then, since I still really wasn't feeling it, I made a bargain with myself: "Just do the lineup of machines, then you can go home. Nothing extra, no abs."
So I did but I added 5 pounds to everything this week because It's my goal to keep adding 5 pounds a month to the machines. I'm up to 60 pounds on most of the machines; heavier on the leg press (because I have quads of steel under all the fluff) and lighter on the overhead press, which is my nemesis.
I know most fitness pros favor free weights to machines, and I do, too, but the order of the machines keeps me from wandering the gym like a distracted zombie ("Weight Training for the ADD Ladies" -- my first book!) and I hit all the major and minor muscle groups.
So, yay! I did it. I conquered Daylight Savings Monday. "Old Gail" would have blown it off with a promise to do better tomorrow. But why not do better today?
My next amazing feat is to get my writing done before dinner so I can devote some serious time to reading. I really want to delve deeper into Jonathan Bailor's "The Calorie Myth" but I've been procrastinating too much at night and never get around to reading anything.