Keep On Keepin' On

  • by Trish Berg
  • April 23, 2014
  • 328
                        
Struggling with loads of laundry, clutter in the kitchen and chaos in your life? Stress can easily steal our joy. Trish Berg reminds us to simplify the small stuff and find Joy in the Journey. Fact: exercise feels great after I have done it. Fact: exercise sounds good in my head and I want to do it. Fact: I hate exercising. I have had seasons in my life when I faithfully made it to step aerobics class three days a week. I have gone jogging on the bike trail and walked on the hills around our rural farmhouse. I have survived four pregnancies and more weight gain and loss than I care to admit publicly. Let’s just say that the scale is usually not a friend of mine. I played sports in high school. I used to be an athlete! So what happened to me? I used to go jogging with my bright yellow Walkman in hand (which dates me), and run three or four miles. My weight seemed more manageable, I was younger (much younger) and I seemed to have more energy (I wonder why?). Then I became a mom. I went through four separate pregnancies and gained forty pounds each time, never quite losing it all when the baby was born. Now I am forty-five years old and my youngest “baby” is eleven years old. Guess I can’t use the excuse of my pregnancy weight still lagging on my hips and belly. Well, you can't blame a gal for trying. My schedule keeps on changing. Kids are in school, then out of school. I work mornings, then afternoons. If and when I get an exercise routine going, one or more of my children comes down with strep or the flu and I end up locked in the house with the ill for days on end, and voila, end of exercise routine. I have tried so many types of exercise it is difficult to remember them all. Step aerobics. Pilates. Jogging. Walking. Biking. Then the arthritis in my knees kicked in, and my whole approach to exercise had to change. No more jogging. No more road-walking. No more step aerobics. I am left with the elliptical, which is easy on my knees and does not cause me to tear up in pain. But my husband, bless his little athletic-heart, is a runner. He runs every morning at the YMCA, five days a week. He is dedicated. He is committed. He is an inspiration. And I hate him for it! Not really. I am really just jealous. I can’t seem to be that committed to an exercise routine. But I try. I started getting up early to get on the elliptical and get two miles in. My goal is always to exercise five days a week. Most weeks I make it three or four times. I go to bed each night planning to get up early and exercise. I start negotiating with myself when the alarm goes off. Let’s just say that I am not a morning person. I have a love hate relationship with the alarm clock. Maybe I need a better set of priorities. Maybe I could give up watching TV in the evening and do some sit ups. Or maybe I could skip dinner, or snacking, or sweets. Maybe I could give up chocolate, or take up marathons. Who am I kidding. I can’t give up chocolate. And as for marathons, ouch! It’s time to face the facts. I am no longer an athlete. I am a mom. So I’ll keep on keeping on, and maybe that’s the best I can do.


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