My lack of motivation has a name.
From now on he is known as “The Creeper”.
I am not sure why he is a male, but it seems to fit. I was listening, as I am want to do at times, to old southern rock and this song came on by Molly Hatchet …
He’s out for vengeance. He’s out to win.
The road he walks is dark and dim.
Don’t let him catch you out on a limb.
He’ll cut your throat, baby,
He’ll stick you in the back.
Drive off in your Cadillac.
He’s more trouble than you think.
He’ll kill you sugar, leave you in the drink.
Say, it’s going to be a cold dark night
Oh, when the creeper comes along.
I have felt him creeping up on me lately. It started out slow; a missed run, a skipped bike spin. Then he started showing up at meals, uninvited, putting things on my plate like mashed potatoes, mac and cheese, and … yes … cheesecake.
He made me eat them, saying to me things like “it’s ok … you have a run tonight”, but then when it was time for the run He was there again … but … Big Bang Theory is on tonight …. and you didn’t set the DVR. You CAN’T miss BBT!!!!
I never really knew he was there, until I stepped on the scale and saw the 5 pound weight gain …
The excuses mounted ….
“I hate working out alone”
“The gym is always too crowded”
“I don’t want to risk injuring my foot so I can do the LONG run this weekend”
” The trainer is SOOOO boring”
“It’s too dark by the time I get home”
“I have 5 months before the next big race!”
On … and on … and on ….
The Creeper needs to die ….
Anyone know how to help?