25 July 2011


It's dark. Cold. Dark and very cold. I'm often in the middle of a dream. Then the alarm wakes me and I can't believe. No, really - I have to get up now?

It's my choice to get up at 5.05am. I lie there for a few minutes, debating with myself. I'll just sleep, says lazy me. No, get up. You'll be so annoyed with yourself if you just sleep, practical me fires back. But I'm tired, lazy me whines. Get up, you wobbly, slothful, lazy piece of ****, practical, vain and annoying me shouts. OK, OK, I'll get up. But I'm not happy about it.

I pat my bedside table in the pitch black, searching for a hair elastic, scrunch my hair into a very, very messy bun and stumble in to the bathroom. Quietly. Step in to my gym clothes, freezing in the proccess. Brush my teeth. Toilet. Wash my face with ridiculously cold water because 1. it takes too long for the hot water to come through the pipes and 2. I don't want to wake Itay any more than I already have. Check on the kids. Put my shoes and socks on. Grab my gym bag, creep out the door. Drive to the gym, yawning, arranging my eyebrows and hoping I don't have massive creases on my face.

It's cold cold cold again when I get out of the car, but once I'm in the gym, I'm set. I'm there to do a job and to be honest, sometimes I actually enjoy it! I'm strong! Powerful! Dedicated! Look at me pump/attack/stretch/spin/balance! I am a fit, healthy woman!

Then I go home and eat chocolate brownie for morning tea. Guess I'll have to go again tomorrow morning then, won't I?

But seriously, chocolate brownie aside (or inside, as it is, in my tummy), the positives of exercising very early in the morning outweight the negatives in my situation. It's all done and over by 6.30am, and I'm home by 6.35am. Most of our daily prep is completed the night before (lunches, bags packed, ironing etc) and the kids wake earlyish anyway. I've all but forgotten about my efforts by the time I get the kids ready for kindly and I head off for work. It works for me... I just need to be consistent.

I know any exercise is better than no exercise, and that is what counts. I have the very real threat of Type 2 Diabetes hanging over me, having been told by specialists that I have 50% chance of getting this disease within the next 20 years. In order to reduce this chance, I need to eat well (oops, damn that brownie!) and exercise.

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