Crawling into bed sounded like the only logical way to spend the next 10 minutes. I was so sore. So exhausted. Instead, I opted for a shower. Obviously the smart thing to do.
I got into the shower, quickly realized that a hot shower was going to make it worse. I cranked the cold water and waited for the warmth to dissipate.
What did I get myself into?
I literally felt sick as I stood in the shower, cool water running down my face.
Working out was a good idea, but now I feel terrible.
I started playing devil’s advocate with myself.
You’re weak. Out of shape. A tired 31/nearly-32-year-old.
It’s hard to get back into the game. To begin at square one on the road to becoming fit. At the moment, all I can think about is how badly I feel. How much it hurts. Why I can’t seem to stop sweating. What it’s going to feel like tomorrow.
I’m whining terribly.
I should be celebrating a small victory. Patting myself on the back. All I can manage is a groan as I try to bend down and pick up the soap.
My legs are shaky and feel like rubber bands stretched to their limits. My neck is feeling a little stiff. My stomach is beginning to grumble in protest of this late workout. I’m wondering how I will get downstairs for dinner. Getting up them was enough of a challenge.
Then the most sensible phrase for the moment entered my mind.
“You’ll be better for it tomorrow.”
I need to stop whining. Quit complaining. Suck it up. The work is done for the day. I did it.
It’s only my health. It’s only my well-being that I am concerned with. No big deal or anything.
Suddenly, the cool water was a little more refreshing. The pain, a sign of progress. My exhaustion tells me I did something today.
And I will be better for it tomorrow.