A couple of weeks ago, I began working out. Kind of. As one of my friends so eloquently put it, the phrase ‘working out’ is a lot like ‘hooking up’. It’s vague, it can mean whatever you want it to. You can define anything from making out to sex as a hook up. In the same way, you can define almost any form of exercise as working out. So, after gloriously falling apart during some ab work during a dance class, I decided I needed to do better. I do this often in many areas of my life. Working out has never actually worked out for me though. Something always holds me back: the fact that I hate exerting energy and feeling pain and would much rather watch every single episode of *insert TV show title here* than actually do something.

So anyway, I decided I needed to stop being a pathetic floppy potato and get my life together. I’ve been dancing for a billion years, core strength should not being some fleeting fantasy that I occasionally daydream about. Even when I was in high school and dancing at least four or five days a week between my school dance team and my studio and  preparing for competition (which is A LOT of hard work and dedication), I still wasn’t in tip top shape. But I should of been. The only thing stopping me was myself. I was lazy. I am lazy. I love pizza. And pasta. And all the things that hurt me. My bad eating habits combined with my lackadaisical work ethic equal an unhealthy lifestyle that I’m just not happy with anymore.

So, I decided to start with one of those 30 day challenges you see on Facebook. Or four: planks, crunches, squats, and pushups (seriously, it’s sad how little arm strength I have). And then, I realized I needed to do some cardio too, and despite the fact that I walk right past the gym to get to the dance studio in the basement of the building I live in, I had never so much as opened the door. Treadmills are scary. People who go to the gym regularly are scary. Armed with my new, totally out of left field attitude, I went to the gym and hopped on treadmill. And basically walked really fast for 45 minutes. You gotta start somewhere.
After that first short work out, I had to go rehearsal and dance for an hour. After that I walked to dinner, red faced and sweaty and sore and I felt great. Like, my body was crying, but my brain was super happy. I was super happy. And proud. I still am.

Today is Day 17. Today I held a plank for a lot seconds, did a lot crunches, push ups, and squats. I mostly jogged, but did some full out running for at least 10 nonconsecutive minutes on the treadmill today. I plan on continuing to do so on a daily basis. (Except Thursdays, rest days are important, also Thursdays suck). I also still have 4 rehearsals and 1 group class each week. So I’m getting in all of the gross exercise I hate and all of the fun dance stuff I love. I’m also trying to eat better, but that particular process is going a bit slower. I really love pasta. I feel pretty good about it, though. My willpower is surprisingly stronger than I thought it was. I suppose really wanting to do the things you need to helps. Ugh, this feels like I’m maturing or something. Gross. I’m gonna go binge watch Law & Order or something. I’ll leave you with this quote, from one of the wisest women ever:

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