It’s been twelve weeks. Twelve long weeks since I’ve worked out the last time. Twelve weeks of shaking off the flu and then waiting for the inflammation in my rips to finally get better as well. And yesterday I finally worked out again. For the first time in three months. I knew it would be hard as your body unfortunately loses strength and endurance pretty quickly. I wish you could gain it all back as fast as you lose it. I know it won’t be the case. Yesterday even the warm up was hard. Although I was proud to have been able to do all the repetitions and keeping up with the pace and the form I felt frustrated. I realized that I’m all the way back on the bottom of the mountain, gazing up the crazy steep incline of the massive wall.
While every part of my body was slightly shaking from the workout because I really pushed I found myself questioning the why. Why was I doing this to myself. I could be just simply continue going on my long walks with the dogs, which would not only make me happy but them as well. Or I could start running again and just go the distance I like to do.
It’s not me though. I like to push myself. As I’m sitting here today, typing this and extremely sore from yesterday’s workout I actually feel annoyed about not working out today. I promised myself that I would start slowly. And by that I only mean to only work out every second day for the first two weeks and then change to working out three days in a row before having a day off.
I realized that I have to change the perspective I look at that mountain in front of me. Rather than seeing it as an obstacle I need to see it as the challenge it was when I first started with this program about two years ago. I know that I can get back to that top again. And I know I will be back up there in latest three months.
Now please excuse me. I think I might just as well use this gorgeous day to go for a walk on the beach and hopefully shake off the soreness of my muscles in doing so. Maybe when I get back walking upstairs won’t feel that hard anymore 😉