I have a routine of jogging and doing body-weight exercises.
Some days are good, and some are bad.
Monday was bad.
I felt it from the outset.
I didn't want to go and had to drag myself out the door.
As I got going, I was out of breath. With every step, I just wanted to lay down and sleep. I felt sick in my stomach. I felt like vomiting.
But, today? Today was good.
It wasn't one of those superman days, but I was ready and eager to exercise.
As I got going, I felt strong, alert, capable.
I enjoyed the jog. I loved the ease with which it came to me.
And then, in the middle of it all, it occurred to me:
I should be pushing myself.
I should be pushing myself on the good days, because if I don't, the bad days'll be that much harder.
So, I did.
I pushed until I was out of breath. Until my stomach was upset and my arms were dead.
In the end, I arrived home tired, but happy. Still feeling good.
There're a lot of times I don't want to push.
Sometimes, it's because I feel bad. Sometimes, it's because I feel good.
Either way, I do.
I keep running when I feel like I'm gonna vomit. I keep fighting to understand when I feel hopelessly stupid. I keep going, even though a voice in my head keeps telling me I'm nothing but worthless shit.
If I didn't push on the good days, I'd have nothing to keep my head above water on the bad days.
