I’m standing inside Lululemon, weighing my options.
I already own a basic pair of stretch leggings. I bought them last year when I convinced myself that I would actually stick to my workout routine. Contrary to my expectations, simply wearing them around the house didn’t change my life.
So here I am, trying to motivate myself, hoping that if I stare at sports bras for long enough I’ll develop abs by osmosis.
Maybe it’s time I tell you what we’re doing here. I’m about to embark on a journey experiment with Steve Nash on Cambie, working out with a personal trainer two times a week for the next three months. During this 90 days challenge, I’ll be documenting my progress, hopefully emerging as a shiny new version of myself.
I’m excited but nervous – besides the two training sessions per week, I’ll participate in team workouts along with bi-weekly seminars. This might just be the most helpful part, since a support network and community to lean on could give me the positive attitude I’ll need to score awesome results.
I pick up a $54 tie-dye bra, wondering if more of a mesh fabric will suit me better. On the other hand, the Hotty Hot Shorts are also calling me, but I’m not sure if I’m a Lululemon kind of girl.
If not, then who am I?
What we’re really dealing with here is a personal dilemma. On one hand, I’m hopeful that my good intentions will have lasting results. On the other, I’d rather have a nap than deal with this stuff.
I tend to get a little distracted. The other day I went to a spin class at 5:15 am, stuffing my face with pork belly panini at 2 pm to prevent myself from passing out. Apparently I’m awesome at making exercise not count.
And it really is the same pattern every time. I start off feeling motivated: posting running photos on my Instagram, sweating all over myself in spin class, and meal prepping like Octomom.
But the go-hard-or-go-home mentality wears off after a couple of weeks and I’m once again breaking down and ready to bail. My burpees begin to look like I’m having some kind of seizure while trying to catch butterflies. Without instant #gainz and gratification, I abort mission and hit snooze. This incessant failure all comes down to one thing: I haven’t figured out why I’m doing all of this.
I recently heard we have a certain quota of willpower per day until we just want to lay face down on the floor. Simply being alive tends to use up a lot of energy, so by the time my workout class rolls around, I need someone to legitimately scream in my face so I can muster up the will to lace my runners. Be it early in the morning or late at night, working out has never felt convenient. And as soon as it gets tough, I can’t find a reason to justify the struggle.
So that’s why I’m going to let someone else have the willpower for me.
For the next 90 days, I’ll strive to be better than average. I will not struggle with my weight and I will not use words like “transformation.” When I look in the mirror, I will like what I see. I will get off the couch after not running for weeks and clock a half marathon distance in decent time. Maybe that’s the worst part: I’m good enough to get by. But that doesn’t mean I’m healthy.
It’s time for that to change.
Getting from where I am right now to, say, the best shape of my life, is overwhelming to think about. So instead, I’m aiming to make small but meaningful changes that feel manageable. This journey is about finding my why.
I’ve been standing in Lululemon long enough to have completed a stretching session. So, I’ll buy this bra and go home. Next, I might eat deli meats in front of the open fridge. I’m already winning.