Our bodies deserve to be treated like temples, except without all the tourists...

I have been working out since I was in college. I joined the gym with a friend and haven’t looked back. Yes, I’ve had my ups and downs with exercise, and I’ve blogged about it here. But, I haven’t ever let go of the idea that working out is important. I know it’s good for my body, my mental clarity, and my mood. After I exercise I always feel good about it.

But I have never stopped hating those cardio machines.

I dread getting on the elliptical or the stair master and pretending I’m moving forward when I’m really staying in place. And I’m so done with running it’s out of the question.

I mentioned here that I love lifting weights and Ginger Calem, who does the WritersButt posts on her blog, commented about CrossFit. It sounded perfect for me. Lifting weights, body movements, and no actual cardio work.

But CrossFit is expensive.

And I’ve gone through this bored with the gym thing before. I’ve looked into that Bar3 class that is based on ballet. I’ve researched kick-boxing and self defense. I even tried yoga, which I didn’t like. But I always came back to the same problem.

All of the fun workout classes were too expensive.

So I tried to take classes at my gym. They either don’t fit my schedule, are too full to enjoy, or they leave me just as bored as cardio machines. And what about when I can’t do something in the class because of my shoulder? The college kid teaching the class can’t spot me in a packed room.

The more I looked into CrossFit the more excited I became. It sounded like so much fun. I wanted to be back in a place where working out was fun. So, I copied down some workouts and went to my gym. Sometimes I was able to stake out a small corner where I could do burpees and lunges without tripping over anyone. But there were also days I was stuck in the middle of the gym, embarrassed to try out a new move with all those people around me.

I complained to a friend about how much it stunk that all the fun workouts were too expensive. That’s when it dawned on me. My priorities were all wrong.

I was paying more every month for my cell phone than I spent on the gym. My cable service was more, my car payment more, and yes, I spent more on my hair. It was embarrassing when I realized how far down on the list I had put my body. My health, myself.

I was only willing to spend the cost of a pedicure on my gym membership. I probably spent more on lattes in month, if I kept track.

We only have one body. It supports us every day in amazing ways and I was grouping it with nail care. Luckily, I realized my mistake in time to do something about it.

I realized that my body deserves a workout I enjoy. Exercise shouldn’t be something I hate and think about like flossing: something that has to be done. I want to love working out. And if that costs as much as my cell phone, what’s the big deal?

It’s for my body.

So, I signed up for a month of CrossFit and I didn’t even blink when I saw the price. The way I feel during and after a class is priceless. And my body deserves nothing less.

Do you have a limit on how much you’ll spend on exercise? Have you wanted to try any classes, but decided they were too expensive? How do you feel about working out?

I saw the sign!

I have been struggling with a love/hate relationship with exercise for a while now. Probably, since I started taking my writing seriously. It seems I only have room in my life for one major obsession. When I found writing, my love of exercise dropped away.

Or so I thought.

I used to workout first thing in the morning. Now, that’s when I write. After a long day at work the last thing I wanted to do was go to the gym and work out. It’s the same excuse most people have. And it is valid. We are tired after work.

Most of the magazines and experts’ advice is to do your workout first thing so you can’t put if off. Yeah, it used to work. But now writing comes first.

So I tried to get myself re-inspired with working out. Ginger Calem commented on a post I wrote about walking and told me about CrossFit. I did some research online, followed her WritersButt blog posts, and decided to try it out.

CrossFit is basically a combination of strength training and cardio, using a lot of body-weight exercises like pushups and squats. I love lifting weights because it makes me feel strong and powerful. It’s the cardio that I find mind-numbingly boring. So I followed a couple of the workout routines (what they call WODs) that she suggested.

It was really hard, but really fun at the same time. I was sweating like crazy, and sore and worn out after twenty minutes. The perfect workout for me.

But no matter how much I liked the workout or how good I felt afterward, I still had trouble getting to the gym. It was like once my butt hit that seat in the car all I could think about was going home. And how good the couch would feel. Really, it was my butt’s fault. She is much stronger than I am.

And then I got an idea. I don’t remember how it came to me. I just knew.

I was good at all the prep work to get myself to the gym. I packed my bag the night before and kept it in the car all day. I downloaded the new music I was loving and made a new workout mix. Only to be listened to at the gym. My motivation was strong. I’d make it to the gym twice a week, and then my Butt would call it quits.

In the car. That was where the breakdown always happened.

At first it was just a silly thought: Maybe if I had a recording of someone saying “Go to the gym!” that I could play in the car I would make it there. But that was just silly. And I was too lazy or embarrassed to see if there was an app for that on my phone. So I went old school.

I grabbed a 3 x 5 notecard and fat Sharpie. I wrote: Get Your Ass to the Gym! in block letters. Then I worried about some kid looking through my car windows and asking their mommy why that lady has ass in her car. Even butt seemed a little crude, so I wrote it how I would really say it. Then I taped it to the center of my steering wheel.

Now every time I get in the car the white sign jumps out at me. It tells me to take my booty to the gym. And my booty listens. I guess she likes to be taken care of just as much as the rest of me.

Since I put that sign on my steering wheel I have been going to the gym five days a week, easily. I even went a sixth day this week because I wanted to. On a Saturday! I almost couldn’t believe it myself.

But my booty really does love working out. She just needed a sign.

How do you feel about exercise? Do you love going to the gym? What motivates you to work out?

It’s no secret that I’ve been struggling with exercise lately. After months of not going to the gym at all or going on and off, over exercising, and then not exercising at all, I finally found some balance. And I wrote about it here.

That balance has now brought me back around to my full, true self. At least when it comes to exercise.

I started out going three days a week and doing whatever I felt like at the gym. Some days were just cardio and some days I threw in weights and abs, too. It was difficult at first. I told myself I was tired after work and just needed to relax. I thought my body was telling me to go home and sit on the couch. I could read and exercise my brain instead.

But the more I stuck with those three days, the more my body’s messages became clear. My lower back let go of the tight spot and the Charlie horse in my calf went away. I wasn’t as tired after the gym as I had been on the way there. After a few weeks I slept better, woke up easier, and my whole body clicked into gear. How to say this politely? My digestive system worked like a dream and no more monthly cramps. My body really liked this regular exercise thing.

The more I went, the more I wanted to go. But not in that compulsive way I’ve had before.

I started lifting weights a little more regularly and planning out what I wanted to do. I remembered my way around the weight room and didn’t feel self conscious among all the burly men. I jumped on whatever cardio machines were open, tuned up my music, and moved.

I felt stronger, stretchier and more relaxed than when I was at home on the couch. My brain finally caught up to my body and remembered how much I loved going to the gym.

I used to call myself a gym rat. Not because I have big teeth or an unusual love of cheese. But because what I loved about the gym was the weight room and the cardio machines. I’m not too much of a class girl. They always sound good, but the schedule is never quite right for me. Plus, there was something about being trapped in a room with someone telling me what to do. Out in the open part of the gym I can move around when I want, how I want. And I can watch other people and learn.

I can read magazines and try new, fun workouts. I can watch the trainers and copy the latest exercise. I can listen to my music and dance a little in between sets. My body can move how it wants to. And my body loves to sweat.

I don’t have to run or pretend I like yoga. I can do what I want to do.

Now I’m excited about working out. And when I get home from the gym I have energy to make more than a quesadilla for dinner. I want to relax in a bath and read, instead of vegging out in front of the TV. It’s amazing how one healthy habit builds on to the next, without me even trying.

Yesterday, I had a great text-a-thon with one of my Bestie’s who moved away. She used to be a trainer and my workout buddy. We decided to text each other for motivation and inspiration. And to talk about new workout moves.

It feels so good to be back to myself. I feel whole and happy and proud. The rat is back. And yes, I do love cheese.

Warrior pose, I think. Not that I actually know anything about yoga.

I am not going to lie. I have always been an extremist. If you’re going to do something, do it all the way. Go hard or go home.

Some people like to claim that is perfectionism. I think it actually comes from my natural state of laziness. If I’m not willing to put in 100% effort, I’ll just skip it. It gets me out of a lot of things.

But, lately it’s also kept me from being my best self.

I would go to the gym for two, maybe three days, and work out hard. I have always believed that if I wasn’t dripping with sweat and ready to lie down, right there on the ground and die, that I hadn’t really worked out. And, yes, I judged everyone else that way, too. In my mind there were a lot of people wasting their time at the gym. Reading while doing cardio?
Oxymoron.

But then, I’d get sick. A cold or the flu would knock me out and leave me on the couch under a quilt watching HGTV. Even if I was strong enough to go to work, I didn’t make it to the gym. I didn’t have enough energy for a “real” workout, so why bother. The cycle of three days on, ten days off became a pattern.

Not a good thing.

It was the same thing with my hair and make-up. I am kind of obsessed with eye make-up. Since my first trip to the MAC counter in high school, I have been a junkie. It takes at least four colors and five brushes for a look I think is fun. I’ve been known, and teased for, wearing orange eye shadow to make my eyes look bluer or considering purple a neutral color. I don’t care what people say, I love it.

But straightening my hair and wearing make-up every day for work began to drag me down. I tried the whole, low maintenance make-up thing. BORING. I don’t want to spend ten minutes to look like I’m not wearing make-up. I can do that instantly. The drag became so bad that I stopped looking forward to getting dressed up on the weekends. I put my flat iron at the back of the cupboard and ditched the make-up for velour track suits.

I couldn’t go on like this forever.

I’d heard people talk about balance and inner peace before. I even tried yoga a couple of times. But spending thirty-five dollars to stretch and take a nap didn’t bring me peace. It just made me think about how many lattes that thirty five dollars would’ve bought.

Then I complained to my chiropractor about being too tired for exercise. She told me that moderation is important and over-training is bad. Then she said something I didn’t totally understand about heating up your inner temperature being the important part of exercise.

As I lay with my face poking through the hole in the table, trying not to drool on the carpet, something clicked. It was that word.

Moderation.

Maybe I could try moderation in a few areas of my life.

The next day I went to the gym. I did some upper body weights and got on an elliptical machine. I didn’t do intervals, and I didn’t crank it all the way up. My body warmed up and I did sweat, just not as much as usual. And I noticed something different when I got home.

I actually had energy. More energy than before the gym. So, this was what people were talking about. Maybe exercise can give you energy.

The next morning I got in the shower a little later than normal. More time for me. I left the blow dryer and the flat iron in the cupboard. I used some mousse, scrunched, and let it air-dry. Maybe wavy hair wasn’t the most horrible thing in the world. And to make it even better, I found my own version of moderate make-up: mascara and lip gloss. It took less than a minute.

And you know what I discovered that day? No one freaked out, asked why I wasn’t wearing make-up, or what happened to my hair. The only people who noticed had good things to say. And the best part was I discovered that I like myself exactly as I am, wavy hair and all.

That weekend I did my hair and make-up because I wanted to. And it was fun.

How do you find moderation in your life? Are you an extremist or naturally balanced?

I know I need to go to the gym. I feel better, sleep better, look better, even write better when I’m working out regularly. I have
more energy, I feel strong, and I can kick off a cold or flu with just a few days of Airborne.

I know all the health benefits to my heart and
lungs, and blah, blah, blah.

So, why is it so hard for me to get there?

Once I’m there, it’s no problem. Something about walking by the front desk seeing other people lifting weights and pounding on
the treadmills gets me energized. I go from, “I’ll just do twenty minutes on the bike” to a whole weight routine, plus thirty minutes of interval-style cardio on something upright.

While I’m working out I think about how great I feel, how I’ll look in my clothes, and I plan my workouts for the rest of the week. I even go home and eat a little bit healthier, maybe think about a subscription to Women’s Health or Oxygen magazines. I go to sleep feeling relaxed, healthy, and strong. And loving how I feel.

But the next day it’s all gone. The last thing I want to do is go to the gym and the excuses begin: You went yesterday, A day off is a good thing, You can rest today and workout tomorrow.

I’ve read plenty of magazines and tried all their tricks. Lists of reasons to work out are posted all over my house and pictures of ideal bodies hang on my fridge, bathroom mirror, and the “vision board” in my office. The only action they’ve stirred is my brother to tell me I should take them down before he comes over. They kind of creep him out.

Dr. Oz, or some other famous doctor quoted in Oprah, said that working out is like flossing our teeth. We may not want to do it, but we have to just get it over with like any chore. Doesn’t really inspire me to put on a sports bra.

And it’s not the working out that’s the problem. It is literally getting my butt out of my front door.

Why is that so hard?

Does anyone else have a problem getting to the gym? Any tricks that actually work? (Other than Gillian  from Biggest Loser moving in with me. I don’t respond to yelling.)