For years I struggled with when to fit working out into my daily routine. Exercise is important to my mental health more than anything, but after having kids and juggling various jobs in education, I couldn’t crack the code on consistency. I’d train for a race and hit the gym late at night after the kids went to bed. Then the race would come and go, and I’d be back to being a weekend warrior, overdoing it on the weekend and doing next to nothing during the week.
I could clearly notice the relationship between exercise and my mood. If I did it, I had more patience; I needed less sleep; I didn’t feel the weight of my depression as heavily; I remembered more things; I laughed more. I literally enjoyed life more when I worked out, but somehow I couldn’t manage to find the time.
I always had suspiciously eyed that 5-6 AM hour as the perfect opportunity. I felt like 5-6 AM workouts were in a crazy window of time reserved for hardcore athletes, neurotics, or overachievers. I knew, however, that that slice of time was a guaranteed uninterrupted time. The slog of the day wouldn’t let me negotiate my way out of it. Mom guilt couldn’t seep in if they were peacefully sleeping. Still, somehow I watched that hour slip away month after month, year after year. I was too comfortable with the story I was telling myself. The story of the scarcity of time. The story of it being too hard.
Until I just decided in December 2019 that enough was enough.
I announced to myself that I was going to be a morning person. I picked a strength training fitness app to do from home, so I wouldn’t stand around staring at the floor without a plan.
I laid my clothes out the night before.
I set the alarm. And alarms for every ten minutes afterward...
I told myself to stop making excuses.
I got up that first morning. I also did something I didn’t expect to do. I snapped a photo and posted it with the caption, “Trying to give those 5 AM workouts time to become a habit. Day one.” I got a few encouraging comments from friends, but what struck me most was that I had made a public commitment to myself.
Then the unthinkable happened. I kept showing up in my basement at 5 AM because I made that commitment and because I was ready for a different story, one where I did the thing I knew would make me feel better and stopped making excuses.
It had almost an immediate effect on my day-to-day well-being. I’d liken it to starting my day with a full tank of gas rather than an empty one. As a result, I had more patience for my students and children and more energy. I was proud of myself for doing something hard. Even if a day threw me a curveball, I knew I had already accomplished something, and I liked that feeling.
It’s been 102 weeks since I started that journey. I still document my morning workouts sometimes because it’s my ongoing commitment to myself. It’s also a way to share that consistency, commitment, and having a plan make a difference. Unfortunately, there are no quick fixes to long-term health.
I’m in better shape, but I’m most proud of the fact that I changed my story. I quit making excuses. I feel stronger. I feel better. I’m proud of myself. That’s the best before and after.
I always tell people, “move your body - change your mood.” Even more than that, I want you to know you can change your story. You can do the hard things. There’s nothing special about me. If you see me smiling after an early morning workout, know it took me years to get the courage even to attempt to make that a habit.
What are the untrue stories you’re telling yourself, and what hard thing are you waiting to do?
Make that commitment to yourself. Say it out loud. You deserve it.
Cheering you on loudly,
Stephanie
I could clearly notice the relationship between exercise and my mood. If I did it, I had more patience; I needed less sleep; I didn’t feel the weight of my depression as heavily; I remembered more things; I laughed more. I literally enjoyed life more when I worked out, but somehow I couldn’t manage to find the time.
I always had suspiciously eyed that 5-6 AM hour as the perfect opportunity. I felt like 5-6 AM workouts were in a crazy window of time reserved for hardcore athletes, neurotics, or overachievers. I knew, however, that that slice of time was a guaranteed uninterrupted time. The slog of the day wouldn’t let me negotiate my way out of it. Mom guilt couldn’t seep in if they were peacefully sleeping. Still, somehow I watched that hour slip away month after month, year after year. I was too comfortable with the story I was telling myself. The story of the scarcity of time. The story of it being too hard.
Until I just decided in December 2019 that enough was enough.
I announced to myself that I was going to be a morning person. I picked a strength training fitness app to do from home, so I wouldn’t stand around staring at the floor without a plan.
I laid my clothes out the night before.
I set the alarm. And alarms for every ten minutes afterward...
I told myself to stop making excuses.
I got up that first morning. I also did something I didn’t expect to do. I snapped a photo and posted it with the caption, “Trying to give those 5 AM workouts time to become a habit. Day one.” I got a few encouraging comments from friends, but what struck me most was that I had made a public commitment to myself.
Then the unthinkable happened. I kept showing up in my basement at 5 AM because I made that commitment and because I was ready for a different story, one where I did the thing I knew would make me feel better and stopped making excuses.
It had almost an immediate effect on my day-to-day well-being. I’d liken it to starting my day with a full tank of gas rather than an empty one. As a result, I had more patience for my students and children and more energy. I was proud of myself for doing something hard. Even if a day threw me a curveball, I knew I had already accomplished something, and I liked that feeling.
It’s been 102 weeks since I started that journey. I still document my morning workouts sometimes because it’s my ongoing commitment to myself. It’s also a way to share that consistency, commitment, and having a plan make a difference. Unfortunately, there are no quick fixes to long-term health.
I’m in better shape, but I’m most proud of the fact that I changed my story. I quit making excuses. I feel stronger. I feel better. I’m proud of myself. That’s the best before and after.
I always tell people, “move your body - change your mood.” Even more than that, I want you to know you can change your story. You can do the hard things. There’s nothing special about me. If you see me smiling after an early morning workout, know it took me years to get the courage even to attempt to make that a habit.
What are the untrue stories you’re telling yourself, and what hard thing are you waiting to do?
Make that commitment to yourself. Say it out loud. You deserve it.
Cheering you on loudly,
Stephanie