I started exercising. If you know me at all ( since you're reading this I assume you do) you know that I HATE working out. I believe it to be torture of the most heinous sort. I have been on this "healthy" journey for a little over a month now and exercising for two weeks.
I still hate it. I still think it's evil. Every movement is hard, really hard and every second feels like an hour.
I am pretty certain exercise will always feel this way for me. I will never be that woman who lives for the gym, has a runner's high, and enthusiastically recruits others to join her. I will be the sweaty mess who looks close to death trying not to throw up in the corner. And that's ok. I don't have to love it. I don't have to have perfect hair during and after each workout (seriously, what is up with those women? I don't trust them or their freak hair). And I don't have to be "excited" for my workout each day. I just have to do it.
It's a small portion of my day that can make a huge impact on my life. So time to suck it up, stop making sarcastic excuses, and accept the need to take care of my 30 something self.