Today P (or Big Daddy P as he's taken to calling himself) moved my treadmill to the living room so I can attempt to pull my lazy ass out of bed in the morning and get in my workout before work.
I really didn't want to get on the treadmill tonight. I would rather have sat on the couch and browsed around Pinterest.
I decided that I was just going to get on it and walk slowly to get some type of movement in. I was walking for about a minute and a half then decided to bump it up to a run (for me) for a minute. Well, that just started it all. There was no going back from there. For the first 15 minutes, I ran one minute then walked one minute. Then that shit got hard for this chubby ass. So I slowed it down to running for one minute and walking for two minute for the next 12 minutes.
I suppose I could have stopped there, but I just kept walking at a few different speeds. I was going to walk til I got to two miles. Once I got to two miles it was like 37 minutes, so I decided to just make it a clean 40.
|Sorry for the blur. I'm no photographer.|
I feel pretty good that I kept pushing myself. Now I'm sitting here sweating balls while my dogs keep piling tennis balls in my lap for me to throw.