Hoist on my own petard

I really didn’t want to go walking, yesterday.

As is typical for the days in which I don’t walk to pick up my son, I was sitting around four miles logged for the day by the time I got him put to bed. I was tired, my legs were sore, and I didn’t want to do anything. And besides, it was chilly and drizzling out, and I didn’t want to go out in it.  So, I flopped down on my bed and announced “I’m debating whether or not to go and get in my last mile and a half”.

Yes, I know I only actually had 1.3 miles left to get in. I’m verbally lazy, all right?

So my wife looks over at me and says: “Didn’t you just write about how you were committing to getting in your walking this morning?”

Damnit, she was right. So I force myself to get up and change into my sweats. And the whole way over I’m thinking two things. The first is that I’m glad my wife’s supportive and helping me keep on track for my goals. The second is something along the lines of “why oh why did I start blogging?” Because I’m whining and wishing I hadn’t committed to go and walk.

I felt pretty good by the time I was done, though. But I’ll tell you a secret: treadmills are boring. Sure, I had my iPod on and was listening to some podcasts. But there’s something about walking three quarters of a mile and staring at the same wall the whole time that is *tedious*. But it sure beat roaming around in the cold and the damp.

I suppose that the moral is, once you have a contingency plan, get an accountability partner to help you follow through. Because there are days you’ll need one.


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