All Aboard the Fit Train

LAZY (adj) averse or disinclined to work, activity, or exertion

That would be me, when it comes to working out. Ugh. Hate.It.

It's amazing to me how I can be so highly motivated in every other area of my life, but just can't seem to get my self together when it comes to exercise. I having a treadmill in my basement, a loft area perfect for Tae-Bo and every mat, weight and exercise video a girl could want. And yet, I sit like a bump on a log, lamenting the fact that I am so freaking lazy.

It usually goes something like this: I lay in bed at night, fantasizing about how smoking hot I will look by our beach vacation in May. I vow to work out for at least an hour a day, starting tomorrow morning. I will do it first thing so that nothing can distract me. I can do this! I will do this! I fall asleep with visions of Victoria's Secret swimsuits dancing in my head.

Cut to the next morning. I jump out of bed, throw on my workout gear and head downstairs. I'll just check email really fast because maybe I got an email about a job overnight (yeah, right!). Now since I'm already online, I might as well see what everyone is up to on Twitter. Oh look, so-and-so linked to their blog post. I'll just read that and then go downstairs for a run. I wonder if so-and-so posted that link to her fabulously cute shoes? I'll just log into Google Reader and check really quick. Oh, crap! It's 9:30. If I don't go to Starbucks soon, I'll be past the time when it's appropriate to show up without makeup on. Better go now. Well, dang. I can't run for at least an hour after drinking a Venti. Think I'll sit down and read a book until my 'breakfast' settles. Well, would you look at that! It's time for lunch. Can't run on an empty stomach! I might pass out and there would be no one around to find me for hours. I'll straighten my hair and do my makeup while my lunch settles, run my errands and still have time left to run before Nate gets home. Dang. My hair looks awesome! How often do I have a great hair day like this? Can't ruin it by sweating it all flat! Okay. No run today. But tomorrow. For sure tomorrow!

And then I lay back down again a few hours later, berating myself for not working out, fantasizing about how smoking hot I will look by our beach vacation in May. I vow to work out for at least an hour a day, starting tomorrow morning. I will do it first thing so that nothing can distract me. I can do this! I will do this! I fall asleep with visions of Victoria's Secret swimsuits dancing in my head.

And the cycle begins again....

Surely I am not the only person who so completely and totally lacks in motivation? What do you do to keep yourself motivated to work out?

Master of the House

What does this look like to you?


A full bowl of dog food, you say? Funny, that's what it looks like to me too.

"Au contraire, Mama!", says Master Oliver. "Completely unacceptable."




Hear that? That is the noise Oliver makes when the food in his bowl does not meet his liking. You see, Picky Pom here only likes the red (meat) and green (veggie) pieces that come in his food. The tan (barley) and brown (wheat) simply aren't acceptable to his palate. So after he eats all of the red and green pieces, he will sit by the bowl and make this woofing noise until you come and: a) stir the bowl to reveal more red and green OR b) replace the offending tan and brown with a new helping loaded with red and green.

Spoiled much?

Nate says this is all my fault. He only does it when I'm around. Never when Nate is home alone. This happens at least once a week, usually more often. Yes, I know that I should not give in. I know this in the sane part of my brain. I never give in immediately. I am always going to STAND MY GROUND and SHOW HIM WHO'S BOSS. This turns into a Stand-off of Epic Proportions, where I continually scream, "Oliver, knock it off!" while chasing him away from the bowl and he defiantly returns bowl-side and continues carrying on.

The longest stand-off to date? 45 minutes. He can keep this up for 45 minutes!! Why is it that when we play fetch, he has the attention span of a gnat, but he won't be lured away from the food bowl with anything less than brute force?

Needless to say, 20 minutes into most stand-offs, the sane part of my brain is no longer functioning and the Dear-God-make-it-stop part has taken over. At which point, I stomp into the laundry room, slap food in the bowl and hurl it at him, muttering "Stupid dog!" under my breath.

Oliver 101, Mommy 0