Today I woke up and was at the point of no return. I'd had it. I didn't care how cold it was outside, I didn't care if my kids were cranky, I didn't care if I felt overwhelmed with things to accomplish.
I WAS GOING TO EXERCISE IF IT KILLED ME.
So, first I planned to do yoga. Does anyone know where my DVDs went? I haven't seen the darn things four about six weeks since we moved. I know they're here, because we watched them a couple times. But I have searched high and low and can't seem to find them now.
So, then I planned to take a walk with the kids and the dog. My son spent the morning whining, my third daughter was in "I don't feel like working" mode, and daughter two was being particularly clumsy (she tripped up the stairs and fell out of her chair during breakfast!).
I wasn't getting my own work done in good time, either.
Things weren't looking good for my workout. Not good at all.
Then I had a major realization - I have stairs in my house!
Before I had a chance to think about how clumsy I am and whether or not this is a good idea, I set off for some up and down. And it felt GOOD. It felt good for about five circuits, that is. At six circuits my dog Ike came running out to try and figure out what was chasing me. At nine circuits my kids gathered at the bottom of the stairs reminding me we're not allowed to run from upstairs to downstairs. At ten circuits I developed a butt cramp that severely limited the use of one of my legs and I started using the Quasimodo stance to achieve my goals. By twelve circuits my thighs felt like I was storing knitting needles in there by the dozen and they were straining to get out.
By fifteen circuits I was done. And humiliated. I'm totally out of shape.
I need to work on that.