Determined To Succeed

Sunday morning. The sun, the universe’s absolute alarm clock, shines through the window with far more affective result than my actual electronic alarm clock which had been broadcasting news, sports and weather at least thirty minutes before I even realized it. “Time to get your lazy butt up,” says the sun as if it knows the last thing I want to do today is get up. Because what does getting up mean? I have to exercise, that’s what. Something my body, mind and blood just don’t want to do today.

I slowly sit up and turn my back to the window (sometimes the only effective “shut off” button to the sun’s bright alarm) and get my bearings. I am not hungover. I am just fatigued. I so don’t want to get up this morning. In my sleepy, groggy haze I think of a sci-fi way to have a snooze button on the sun – sending it back down for another ten minutes so I can catch more z’s.

But sitting a mere six feet from me are my perky sneakers, already awake and already to adorn my feet as we head to the gym. In the movies my sneakers would be that stereotypical “Odd Couple” miss-matched dorm roommate who keeps his side of the place neat and clean and dust-free (a sort of Felix Unger to my sleepy, lazy Oscar Madison) who’s telling me “rise and shine, sleepyhead.” But how can I throw a shoe at my roommate to get him to leave me alone when the roommate, itself, is a shoe? Grrrrrrr.

“Ok. I’m up. I’m up.” I mumble in a slightly gruffy, aggravated tone. My sneakers are still staring at me wondering when we’re going out. My sleepy imagination has shifted them slightly and they are now like a puppy who wants his owner to throw on the leash and take him for a brisk, energetic and happy walk. A brisk, energetic and happy walk the owner doesn’t want to do, opting instead for just a few more minutes under the covers.

But the shoes are waiting.

I scratch my head and shake myself more awake, and in my new morning coherence I look at my shoes – that anxious puppy, that perky roommate – and I realize both are correct. It’s time to start the day. It’s time to get my lazy butt moving.

These extra pounds can’t be wished away, no matter how strong we Jedi think we are with the Force. Pounds can only come off with better diet (and I was better yesterday having my Lean Cuisine for dinner) and exercise. Ooooh, there’s that word again, like the sun shining brightly on your face as you try to eke out five more minutes of sleep. It’s time to get my lazy butt moving.

I’m awake now and my lazy butt is moving. A few minutes ago I didn’t want to get out of bed, but in an hour from now I will be transformed into that anxious puppy or perky roommate because my blood will then be pumping. I will be psyched because, hopefully, I will see results on my scale. I will feel energized to do the laundry and shopping I have to do today. I will know I have taken care of myself and walked that much further on my weight loss journey.

And all of it because I  put on my anxious, perky shoes and went to the ever-waiting but ever helpful gym where I am sure I will see at least a few more sleepy people who woke up, like I did, to the universe’s ultimate alarm clock telling them to get their lazy butts to the gym, too.