I finally started doing some real excersise today, and I think that what finally motivated me to get up off my ass says a lot about my misplaced priorities.
I could, and should, be doing this for my health, my appearance, my self-esteem, whatever. So what has possesed me to finally stop bitching and start working out?
I realized, I’m going skiing with my dad in about a month and a half. My dad (as of Nov. 10th) is 66 years old, and in much better shape than I am, because he walks four miles a day four days a week and does “cardiac rehab” (aka more working out) the other three.
He is retired (surprise!), and has nothing else he really needs to do with his time other than keep himself in reasonably good shape and go to eight thousand Big Jewish Functions with my stepmom, so he’s in fantastic shape for a guy his age.
In fact, he’s in such good shape, he has left me eating his dust when we go skiing on a regular basis since I left for college and he retired.
I decided, once and for all, I will not let a man three times my age leave me in his dust.
And that weirdly competitive thought, more than any real motivation to better myself, got me off of my ass. I’m going to be in good enough shape to take advantage of skiing for once.
Of course, this is all dependent on me keeping my resolutions. Hopefully, however, I’ll be a lot better at keeping my November resolutions than my new year’s ones.