I've joined a gym.
The shoes pictured above are mine and are about 6 years old when neon pink was a big thing (believe me, I have no clue what is big these days), and they're almost as shiny and new today as the day I got them.
I am not a workout person, clearly.
Gyms are accountability, and historically, I don't like them. I want that blissful "don't weigh in, don't worry about it" mentality to carry me through life. WHY would I want to go and feel like an inadequate athlete watching responsible people take care of their health and well-being when I can stay home and eat warmed tortillas on rainy days?
(Context to that: yes, I did just warm a tortilla for a 10:30am snack, and no I don't regret it, and yes, I want seconds).
So why did I join a gym when I have such an aversion to them? Well, I'm turning 35 in 2017 (cue tears and a grand goodbye to my youth). Granted, my birthday is not until October, but let's be straight here: I don't have much longer to fit in that 20-35 target market bracket, and my metabolism will likely break in the next couple years. All the wise people out there say "build healthy habits while you're young!" and... well..., "young's" expiration date is looming far too close for comfort for me.
SO. I've set child care for today as a sure way to get my unmotivated self to the gym, and I'll be off. I'm looking forward to seeing many New Year's resolution athletes like myself, but unlike all of them, I'm going to keep my membership past March this year. I'm going to use it. Yes. I am.
Thanks in advance, 2017, for being the year I become as agile and fit as I was in 1997.