Sometimes these three little words live independent lives. Other times, they are so intertwined that they look like those writhing piles of snakes (think Indiana Jones) where it is impossible to tell one snake from another and where you really don't want to stare too long.
I was pretty darn tired on Thursday morning. I hadn't slept well on Tuesday night thank to the Dexter/Rabbit wars and I slept better, but not must better, on Wednesday night. Not enough to catch up anyway.
My alarm was set for 5am. I had an 8k run to do. The alarm went off. I lay there for a few minutes thinking and then slipped out from under the warm blankets, pulled on my layers of running clothes and headed out into a -12C morning.
Guilt? Because I had skipped my Wednesday morning swim and didn't want to have to admit to missing two workouts in a row?
Fear? Because every time I miss more than one day of exercise a little part of me starts thinking about how sedentary I am becoming and I imagine all sorts of bad things happening to my heart, to my body? Or because diabetes always looms large and the knowledge that exercise is really important means that fear kicks in when I don't do it enough?
Enjoyment? Because I really do enjoy those quiet morning runs, all alone, in the dark, hearing my feet pounding the pavement and watching the sky change from night to morning?
Yes, yes and yes.
Sometimes I force myself out of bed purely because of the guilt I would feel if I didn't. I don't want to get up. I don't care what lying around for the day will do to my body. I just really want that extra sleep. But I get up anyway because I know I will regret it later and feel guilty for wimping out.
Sometimes it really is the fear. If I know I have the kind of day ahead where I'll be tied to my desk and only get up for water refills and pee breaks, I force myself out of bed so I can move my body, at least for an hour. Other times I know that two days off in a row means higher blood sugars and other diabetes nonsense and the fear kicks in because I don't want to deal with the realities of high BGs that day nor do I want to think about what they do to my body in the long run.
Many times, I get up because I really do like exercise. I love the quiet runs. I love the tough sweaty workouts on the bike. I love the quiet peace I feel when I slip into the water for my swim. I get up simply because I want to.
Most days though, there is a bit of guilt, fear and enjoyment mixed together and together they get me up when the alarm goes off. Together to keep me moving through my days and keep me fit and keep me strong.
Alone, I don't think any of them would stand a change in the long run. Alone, I don't think any of them have the power to get me up day after day to do what I do.
Together, they work well. Trading back and forth. When one loses a bit of power, the other two step up to take its place. There is strength in numbers.
To infinity and beyond!