I did write something every single day so far this year, and I did write always about exercise. But, on that fateful day, a day not too far into my "Year Committed to Transforming My Body through Establishing a Habit of Easily-Accomplished and Not-Too-Demanding Daily Exercise," I did not meet my own personal quota of ACTUALLY EXERCISING.
It was only day three or four, and I have already blocked most of the particulars out of my mind.
It was totally embarrassing then, as it is now, to admit defeat. As the clock approached midnight on "The FIRST of What Will Most Likely Be the MANY Days I Have Failed To Complete the One Tiny, Little Daily Step I Need to Accomplish EVERY SINGLE DAY in Order to Reach My Primary Goal for the Year of NO LONGER BEING A COUCH POTATO DOOMED TO AN UNPLEASANT AND PAINFUL EARLY DEMISE," I recognized my impending failure to live up to what I thought were not too unrealistically high expectations for myself.
I cringed. The clock passed midnight. I had not rolled out the yoga mat. Did the ten ab crunches I did before I got out of bed that morning count? How about the thirty seconds of squats I did while brushing my teeth? The bending down to touch my toes in the shower, twice, when I had only dropped the soap once?
I had to admit it. I was a slacker. The most I had done about exercise that day was to think about it continuously.
I felt awful about my not having followed through on what was supposed to be a simple plan of action. Yet, it was not the first time in my life I had let myself down, and would likely not be the last.
I had managed to knock myself off my high horse of over-confidence in believing it would be a cinch to master this exercise thing. Yet, I was not done for. I got up, dusted myself off, and continued onward in my journey. My ego was bruised and battered, but not down for the count.
Still, I was massively disappointed in myself for letting me down. All I had wanted to do was to be able to say, next December 31st, that I had gotten up and moved my body every day for a year. Was that too much to ask? On next New Year's Eve, I wanted to proudly announce that I had, self-conscripted, participated willingly and practically effortlessly in a series of simple exercise motions, for each of 365 days in a row. That I had pushed myself to a new sublime body awareness, and was completely satisfied with the glorious results.
In the first few days of what was shaping up to be the Year of Neverending Failure and Comeback, I had already grown comfortable with the idea that my own personal goals of intellectual success as a writer were necessarily entangled with being able to sustain my body in a condition conducive to maintaining fitness. I recognized that if I continued in my current habit of writing, trapped within the physical embodiment of a couch potato, I would soon be doomed to lose what was left of my body's fitness. If I did not get up off the couch occasionally, I would eventually no longer have at my disposal my mind's comfortable writing nook, a cooperative, pain-free, healthy body that would obey my commands when called upon to buckle down and type.
"Failure is not an option!" had been my unspoken motto, as I had embarked on my trip to the Land of the Hale and Hearty on the first day of the New Year. There was no need to announce my motto aloud, of course, because who would need to state out loud something so obvious?
What had happened to throw me off course, and so soon?
If I am lucky, I will now be able to deconstruct what happened, and I will describe my reaction to the uneven turn of events that led to my ignoring the Siren Call to Exercise which I thought I had employed as a hired hand. I will fire this inept serf, if necessary, then attempt to outline precisely which steps I plan to take to make sure my neglect of duty does not happen again. I may have to step up and hire a professional exercise guru, a motivational speaker, a former-couch-potato-turned-fitness-pro to guide me through the initial stages of this transformation I desire.
I am not going to be starting over, in my quest for self-improvement, but will recognize this glitch for what it is, a bump in the road to a state of improved physical fitness. I'm taking this as a wake-up call, and hope to learn from my mistake, and not make the same mistake twice.