"I've decided that perhaps I'm bulimic and just keep forgetting to purge."

-- Paula Poundstone

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

What’s your excuse?

Man, I suck.

The last words I left you with here were how I needed to work hard this week.

And then I came home last night and decided to skip kickboxing.

Granted, Monday night kickboxing is always a pain because it doesn’t start until 7:55 p.m.

The later it got last night, the more I didn’t want to go back out. I was already comfy in my nightgown.

That’s no excuse.

So, I got a wonderful wakeup call at 3 o’clock this morning when every breathing thing in my house was wide awake.

My son is battling a bit of a cold and wakes himself up coughing. My dog Clyde gets physically ill during storms, so he was going nuts with all the thunder and lightning here.

It took me a good hour to get back to sleep this morning, and I was finally snoozing soundly when the “Get on the stupid treadmill” alarm started sounding.

I try to make myself get on the treadmill or go to the gym even when I don’t feel like it. Hell, if I waited until I felt like it, I’d never exercise at all.

Not feeling like it is not an excuse. Not for me, anyway.

I’ll allow that excuse for those who deserve it.

Take my Aunt Barb, who just completed radiation treatments.

Or my best friend from home, Tifany, who is watching her mother battle cancer.

Or my husband’s co-worker, who over the weekend delivered a baby who died only hours later.

Or my Mountain Workshops colleague Rodney, a Michigan photographer who is beautifully documenting his fight against leukemia here.

They have excuses. Yet they don’t use them.

Join me in vowing to live your best life.

In their honor.

Every single day.