So, this week at the gym, I decided to kick things up a notch and run on the treadmill. About one minute into this, I began thinking it was a bad idea. I hate running...who am I kidding?! But, I forced myself to run for 10 minutes. Ugh...it was torture. I couldn't take my eyes off the timer on the machine, and kept thinking, "just 7 more minutes, you can do this!", then "I don't think I can go another minute!".
The next visit at the gym, I decided to run again, this time for 11 minutes! Now that I knew I could go for 10 minutes, I couldn't go any less than that. So, I challenged myself to go one minute longer. I did it...but grudgingly. Did I mention I hate running?
Next time, it will be for 12 minutes. I can't wait. Is it bad that the only way I get through this is by shouting to myself things like, "Do you want to look good for your 10 year college reunion?! Keep going!" "Do you want to lose that butt?! Keep going!" I'm like my own little drill sargeant in my head. Watch out, Lou Gossett Jr, there's a new sargeant in town.