Excuses are like chocloate… I just want to wallow in them.

excuses

I don’t have a single good reason for not going to Crossfit this morning.

Sure, I have “reasons,” but really, they are nothing more than excuses I used to make myself feel better and justify myself to my husband who couldn’t care less.  Which begs the question, why do I do that?

Why not just say, “I want to sleep in this morning, I’m feeling lazy and will probably skip Crossfit today?”

Rather than come up with a million excuses?

Because really, when I realize that I WILL be able to make it to the 6:30 class tonight all of those excuses become null and void anyway.  My sore lower back and cranky hip suddenly don’t matter when I don’t have to get up at 5:30 a.m. to go.  My angry hormonal ovaries and desire to kill anyone who looks at me are completely irrelevant when it doesn’t require me to get up out of my warm bed first thing in the morning.

I think it would make more sense for me to just admit to myself, I WANT to go to Crossfit, but this morning I was just too lazy to do so.  Beating myself up about it is pointless, much like beating myself up about a brownie I ate this weekend is silly.

Dear Nicole, would it not be so much better to just acknowledge the action that we’re taking, take it, enjoy it, and then go on living?  Are there consequences?  Sure, sometimes.  But the worst of them should not be how much I beat myself up about it.

If the worst possible consequence was that I didn’t get to go to Crossfit today because I was an oaf who slept in, that’s bad enough.  There’s no need to be an oaf who slept in who then spends the morning berating herself for doing so.

Balance.  It’s all about balance.

Well, and sanity.  Which obviously, I’m still working on that particular goal.

Advertisements

You say tomato, I say “what the hell is wrong with you?!”

Morning person

I am unhappy that I slept in this morning.  I didn’t think these words would ever come out of my mouth.

For the past several months I have religiously gone to Crossfit every morning at 6 a.m., meaning I wake up and leave the house before my husband each day.  Today is an exception, I had to be in to work early and changed my schedule so that I will be attending class this evening.  But after the near death experience that my husband had this morning (because I almost freaking killed him), I won’t do that again.

Men and women are different.  I know that.  There are also morning people and not morning people in this world.  I’m aware of that as well.  I know that I’m not a morning person, but my husband definitely has me beat in that department.

He honest to god sets 10 alarms every morning.  They start at 5:45 a.m. and go off every 7-10 minutes until he actually crawls out of bed at 7 a.m.  at which point he futzes around for another 30 minutes before he actually has to get in the shower and get ready for work.

When it comes to mornings, I am the polar opposite.  My alarm goes off every morning at 5:30 and I am out of bed within seconds.  I’m not chipper, I’m not happy, but I’m up.  I have exactly 10 minutes to brush my teeth, get dressed, and get out the door if I am to make it to Crossfit on time.  Could I set my alarm earlier and snooze it?  Sure, but why bother?  I get every single minute of uninterrupted sleep that I can and just get up when my alarm goes off.

This morning I was technically able to sleep in until 7 a.m., giving me 30 minutes to get out the door to work (which is all I need).  Sadly, I was awake from the moment his alarm went off at 5:45, and ready to kill him every subsequent time it cycled through the “snooze” or the next alarm he had set.  This morning I heard, not necessarily in this order, a lawnmower starting, church bells, a dog barking, and something that sounded like a nuclear siren, all in an attempt to get him out of bed.

Right around the time I was ready to smother him with a pillow, my alarm went off and I was up.

Conveniently, that was when he was ready to get in the shower as well.

Ah marriage.