‘This is what it takes to win the fitness battle. I fight to give up, but my desire for achievement is stronger. It’s purely a mental game when I am physically behind the 8 ball…’
I set the alarm for 0515.
I dared not think about it.
That’s the only way I can get through.
If I thought about how dark and cold it was going to be at that ungodly hour, I probably wouldn’t go.
If I thought about the alarm pulling me away from a lovely deep dreamy sleep, expecting me to desert the warmth and comfort of my favourite place (my bed), in favour of taking my clothes off and standing in my Toggs in the middle of winter, only to jump into an outdoor swimming pool and do sprint sets until I almost threw up, I probably wouldn’t go.
So I switch my brain off and set the alarm.
When it beeps at 5 bells in the morning, I get up, and I walk out the door. I start the car engine, wind down the windows and wipe my mirrors with my hand. It’s cold.
I head down my street concentrating extra hard-the visibility is poor, my eyes are still glued semi-closed.
There are ‘little long legs’s everywhere, with chicks.
Little long legs? Bush Curlew’s.
They sit in the middle of the road and lift their wings and scowl amd hiss and carry on doing their best King of the Jungle impersonation.
They see me as a threat.
Huh! If only they knew what I was about to put myself through!
My mind continues to question me.
“Why? Why are you doing this? It’s dark, it’s cold, it’s early. It’s just so WRONG!”
The psychological warfare is ON.
I grump around and drag my feet as I prepare to jump into the water. The fresh air chills me to the bone. You stupid individual, I tell myself. Who in their right mind would abandon a warm bed for this?
Swim, swim, swim, swim. Day breaks. The sun is up-you’re a bit slow sun-my mind scolds.
The sky is a million shades of pink, one or two stars remain, and the moon lies plum in the sky, in a perfect crescent. Heaven cradles the earth, and everything is ok again- Daylight lifts me out of the black hole.
This is what it takes to win the fitness battle. I fight to give up, but my desire for achievement is stronger. It’s purely a mental game when I am physically behind the 8 ball
-and so I try to override my mind, and go through the motions in a completely unglamorous manner. There is nothing heroic about it. There’s whinging, there’s moodiness, there’s uncertainty
-but I set my alarm for 0515, and I get up.