Never thought I'd do it, but I started a fitness page. Pages, actually. I think of it as a tracker because I already use my iPhone calendar, a planner, a journal, a binder and a notebook - that's my idea of being organized. Yes, I'm shitty at it. Every time Better Homes and Gardens sends me an e-newsletter that's titled Get Organized, I yell, "Fuck You, don't tell me what to do!" at the screen and delete it.
With these fitness pages, I don't intend to tell you how great my workout is going - quite the contrary. I've been working out for a long time and like many people it's on again, off again. Get fit, get fat, get fit - try saying that ten times fast.
I know the pitfalls. You get tired, bored or God forbid - injured.
When the momentum stops, you start to go down. When you get as low as you possibly can, you have to find deep inside of you that voice that says put down that nacho and pick up those knees!
It's the fear of getting rickety - because there's no stopping age. When I hit thirty, I vowed to keep fit in my forties. Now that I'm well into my forties, I'm renewing my vow to at least not have to wear old lady pants. My sons will be hitting their teens after all and you know what that means - hormones.
Here goes Fitness Mom Zola on Namzola Goodness.