Me Time

I understand people have gym buddies. It can be really good motivation for the right type of person. A few weeks ago, my girlfriend asked me if she could tag along when I was going to the gym as motivation for her. I was totally fine with this once in a while.

I get it. Everyone’s different.

I happen to be a personality, though, that prefers to workout alone. Unless I’m doing specifically training for some team sport or playing an active activity with friends, my workout time is my me time.

I’m out and about a lot amongst people. My day job requires that I talk to people and be pleasant throughout the day. My career is filled with working with different personalities and getting to know people from all over. And I love it. But it requires a lot of energy.

So when I workout, that’s my meditation time. It’s my reminder to breathe in my nose and out my mouth. It’s when I quietly check in with my body to see how it’s feeling and what it wants. It’s my time to listen to ridiculous, fun music or great podcasts and just relax.

In a world where I’m always (happily) giving myself to others in some capacity, my workout is my time to give back to my own mind, body, and spirit.

There’s a reason I gravitate towards running and don’t like spinning. Running you’re quietly by yourself taking in the sights and sounds and going at your own pace. Aside from the anonymous people in traffic, nobody notices you. You can zone out. You can relax. You can be invisible and invincible all at once. It’s magical.

Even lifting is as rejuvenating for me. I like being by myself and focusing on getting just the right form for the lift. I like to push my body hard but also listen and know when enough is enough. I like to take breaks between sets and just bop my head to the music I’m listening to and let my body recover. I like to scan around the room and let my mind wander to the personalities around me without investing in any one or anything too much. These people don’t know me. They don’t know the first thing about me. And they don’t care. And I love it.

So now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go run to the ocean for a training run and some me time.

I dragged my feet all morning…

…then forced them to pound the pavement.

This morning I wanted to get out of bed an hour and a half before I actually got out of bed. I moved slowly, ate slowly and got dressed slowly. Even though I was putting on my running clothes, I spent most of it trying to convince myself I could put off the training workout I needed to do until later today. Or tomorrow. Or even later this week. Surely I would have time later this week. I was already moving slow and this run probably wouldn’t be any good anyway.

But I made myself do it. Even though I tried to talk myself out if it, I did it. I ran my mile-long intervals with five minute slow run breaks. I ran up and down the gorgeous streets of my neighborhood for about an hour. I looked at houses and listened to a mediocre podcast episode.

I took in the sights and smells and sounds of a beautiful morning. And I ran like a beast.

And I’m so glad that I did. Because I know this day has been much better for it, I’ll run my race in a few weeks better because of it, and I’m in a much better mood all-around.

Plus, I had a huge burrito from Chipotle for lunch and didn’t feel guilty about it at all. Win/win.