There’s something haunting and beautiful about late night hours, when one day turns into another.  It’s a time when most people are sound asleep, without giving it much thought.  But, for me, it’s when I’m perhaps the most meditative.

On Monday night, I was pacing around my house wearing my gray and neon green running shoes, a pair of black yoga pants and a purple t-shirt with a faded Fanta logo on the front.  My hair was pulled up, I was ready.

At least, I looked ready.  I had looked ready all day.

No matter how ready I thought I was, I couldn’t make myself go downstairs and log some miles on the treadmill.  I was angry at myself for not getting it done during the daylight and I hated myself a little for crawling into bed instead and making self-promises to try again tomorrow.

It had been nine days since my last work out.  In three years, that’s the longest stretch I’ve ever gone and the more time that passed, the harder it was to get going again.

Clutter abounded.

In my house.  In my body.  In my mind.

There was laundry to do and “stuff” was still everywhere from my half-assed unpacking job.  My body felt sluggish and dehydrated from missed workouts and from eating and drinking things I normally wouldn’t.  My brain was kneading aberrant emotions and thoughts.

I could feel myself slipping into a place where I didn’t want to be.  A place I swore I’d never return.

Clutter, in all forms, has a way of paralyzing me.  I don’t want to deal with it; I ignore it for a while, even though I know dealing with it is the only way I can function.

Yesterday I stood at the edge of my treadmill, I had to take that first step.  It was going to hurt, but I had to start the “de-clutter” process.

And hurt, it did.  Forty-five minutes of pure torture that ended in an amazing release. From that one run, I started getting fired up again.

This afternoon I made my way back to the gym where I returned to my regular workout regimen full blast.  It was still incredibly difficult to get through, both physically and mentally.  As I pushed my muscles to power through the pain, my brain worked through some things I’ve had on my mind.

In a way, it’s all connected.  I’ve been kind of bummed out over something for a couple of weeks and that in turn affected my motivation for my workouts and just getting normal things done around the house.  The emotional stuff cluttered other parts of my life.

Think about that the next time you’re faced with something you need to do, but you can’t seem bring yourself to do it.  What’s really keeping you from succeeding?  Once you figure that out… only then can you move ahead.


One comment

  1. The Emerging Dancer · January 24, 2013

    It sounds like it has been a rough few weeks. I’m glad you’re getting back to a better place. It’s amazing how easy it can be to get “stuck.”

    By the way, this was beautifully written… “My brain was kneading aberrant emotions and thoughts.”

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