The first step is always the hardest. Last night when my walking buddy texted me to see if we were on for this morning I said an emphatic “no”. No, I wasn’t going to wake up at 4:45 a.m. especially because the kids didn’t have to go to school. But then she said that we could go later and I knew that if I agreed to that I would never leave the house. For one reason or another, someone would need something or I would remember that thing I forgot, or something would happen that lead me to not going. So I did the only thing I could – I got up and I went.
We walked and talked about thanksgiving and life and kids as the miles passed. When I came home everyone (including me) seemed ready to start the day. Then I went to spin class. I will undoubtedly eat far more than I burned today (and if not today – then tomorrow) but I felt hopeful and strong, which is always a nice combination. The air conditioner is back on (it’s Florida, this happens) but the Christmas tree is decked out so I think it all evens out for today.
In the end, it was only that first step that mattered. It was the catapult off the couch and away from the television and out the door that mattered. And I did it.