Exercise

So, one of my 2020 resolutions, was to do an exercise routine 310/356 days of the year. That gives me about six weeks of break, so I thought it would be a breeze. I specifically wanted to focus on my torso. I wanted a flatter stomach, thinner waist, and wider hips. While I'm not saying I've already failed(we're barely four weeks into the year, how would I have failed???), it is most definitely a struggle. At the time I'm first writing this, it's January 22, and I've completed 16/22 days, including today. Not too shabby, hm? Well, it gets worse when you realize we are four weeks into January and I've already used up a tenth of my leeway.
Why? Well, laziness. The first time I even gave not doing the exercise a second thought was because of cramps. My uterus was contracting and considering how abs were one of the main focuses of the workout, I was seriously dreading getting up to try. So I didn't. I sat there and let my first day sizzle away. I felt so guilty. And, personally, guilt and laziness are an awful combination.
I managed to guilt myself out of exercising for the next three days on top of it. Thoughts like "you already failed," or "late isn't always better than never," or "so weak" are what kept me idle.
So what brought me back?
Well, will.
I closed my eyes and imagined myself with the body I wanted. Then I imagined myself with the body I have now but more toned. Then I imagined myself with no changes but with all 310 tally marks at the end of the year. I came to the conclusion that all the options were a million times better than what would happen if I never got up. Never getting up means I didn't try. Another day, no effort. That could easily lead to a week without effort, a month, a year. Imagine if I went the rest of 2020, with zero effort to try and be a better person. I would feel awful. I went into my 15th year of life, hoping and praying it would be better than my 14th. Sure, I'm fighting hormones. Sure, I'm in high school now. Sure, I'm in the last stretch of what's left of my childhood. But I can improve myself. I need to improve myself. I can and I will.
The pure rush of adrenalin I get while exercising is unmatchable to anything. The closest I get to that feeling is maybe when I'm suddenly super inspired to write and I open my laptop and get maybe five hundred words down in ten minutes. Except, with exercise, I feel the sweat in the creases of my body. I feel my muscles squeezing and tearing up, knowing they'll grow back stronger. I see my legs and back tone out and my belly fat decrease. I see it, and then I'm inspired to continue. It's an interesting cycle, a healthy one. And all I need to start is a bit of will and a lot of determination.