I came, I saw, I conquered . . . and I stink! (Not sure the word for ‘stink’ in Latin).

Having walked on the treadmill this morning, I can barely stand to be around myself. But although the fragrance is sour, the feeling of victory is sweet, especially when I know that I just did something HARD when all I really wanted to do was quilt.

Three years ago, I started walking on the treadmill 6 days a week. I was obsessively faithful, not missing a day for more than two years. Sometimes I’d walk during the wee hours of the morning, dragging myself out of bed when I realized that I hadn’t “done the treadmill” that day. No matter how ill, I’d walk a few minutes just so that I wouldn’t break the streak. One of the keys to my success was that I “allowed” myself to read “fun” books on the treadmill, but I could ONLY read them on the treadmill? If I wanted to know what happened in the next chapter of Harry Potter, I had walk on the treadmill. Over the two + years, I read thousands of pages and walked hundreds and hundreds of miles.

Unfortunately, somewhere during the sleepless months of postpartum hell (sorry, there’s no other way to describe it), my treadmill started gathering dust. Only recently have I started to get back into a routine, trying to be more reasonable about it this time. And so when I triumph over laziness or fatigue or procrastination, I am inordinately proud of myself. PLUS, I finished a book today and get to pick out another one to start tomorrow.

Whew! Off to the shower!