My job here is done.
Not really.
Yesterday I decided to go for a run. No, zombies weren't chasing me. No, the neighbor's house wasn't on fire. No, I haven't actually lost my mind . . .
Yet.
But the sun sat low on the horizon, the sky still a pale shade of blue. Birds flew from tree to tree, singing while hunting bugs—
Sick of all that yet?
I thought so.
Anyway, back in February, the hubster must have pushed his iPad in my face every day, showing me pictures of P90X2 and all those assholes who say they’ve had three kids—or more—and look like . . . well, they look downright amazing. After a few weeks of this, I caved. "Buy the damn thing."
We're not getting any younger. We're not getting any skinnier, especially when I plop my flat (yes, I said flat) ass down on the couch every night to write books you people like to read. (I love you.)
And I'm so glad I said yes (especially to marrying him—he's awesome) and we decided to make these changes in our lives. Sure, we work out five days a week. My knees hurt. My elbows hurt. My body aches. But at the same time, I feel stronger, alive, more alert, healthier, proud of what I see in the mirror—on most days.
To top it all off, I'm trying things I haven't done in years . . . like running. I used to love it, but I told myself I couldn't move that fast anymore. My body couldn't handle it.
Pfft. I'm 32 years old. I'm not giving up on life. I'm not caving and sitting on my ass the rest of my life. I'm not old. I hope I never grow "old".
So let this be a message to you: GET OFF YOUR ASS AND ENJOY LIFE.
Now.
Because tomorrow, it could all be over.
