Today has been one of those days where even after eight hours of sleep I woke up with absolutely no energy. I still don’t have any, and it took some serious self persuasion to sit down in front of my computer to start writing. So you can imagine the will power it took to get myself to the gym this morning. And even when I got there, all I could do was walk, very slowly, on the treadmill while listening to my audiobook. It’s a frustrating feeling; knowing you should be doing something, doing it, and then seemingly getting nothing in return.
On Friday, I quit hospitality work for good, after two years of weekend nights spent behind the bar, serving customers with a forced smile. Yesterday I told Ariz it literally feels like I’ve been on a treadmill, setting its own pace, since July and have only just been allowed to get off; only now, with just a daytime job to worry about, am I actually on holiday. My body and mind are fried; sure, there are some pockets of energy and drive, but overall (and particularly on a Sunday), I have low concentration, focus, and energy sourcing abilities. Even finding words is taking me forever. Forcing myself into the car, onto the train and eventually the treadmill was an enormous struggle; a mission. I was very close to not even training today (mostly on account of my now decade-old excuse of having my monthly, cramped-up visit), when Ariz reminded me of something I haven’t really thought much about at all.
He said, “I’ve learnt that it’s when you least want to do something you absolutely should do it.”
For a moment, coming back on the train from the gym, I thought about what he had just said. After a few seconds, I realised he was absolutely correct. My entire life, I’ve dreaded and worried in advance; bit my nails at the thought of an upcoming piano concert, or a session of taekwondo in front of the master. I have a serious case of performance anxiety, which is probably the main reason I enjoy individual and private workouts so much. However, every time I’ve gone through with those things I’ve feared and cringed at the thought of, I’ve gotten so much more out of it than out of things I have wanted to do. There is nothing more satisfying than patting yourself on the back with that wonderful sense of accomplishment, rushing through you in 100 kilometres an hour, at the completion of something you didn’t want to do. And it goes for everything: when you don’t want to clean the house, but take out the mop anyway, or call someone you dread speaking to; when you sit down for those two hours of study you promised yourself, or go for a walk in -15 degrees in wintertime. I think the feeling comes from reaching a goal, however small it might have been.
And even now, as I’m coming to the end of my blog, the veil over my mind is slowly lifted and my body breathes calmly in and out; once again, I have managed to complete something I thought I might skip. That goal I had played down in my mind to avoid with guilt has instead been reached, and I can at peace keep lazing about as per usual on a Sunday afternoon.
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