The first few notes of "The Most Relaxing Piano Album Ever" creep softly from my clock radio at 5:15 am. My body feels like tiny bags of sand have settled into the back of my arms, back and legs. So comfortable. So grounded. The kind of tired that makes me want to just lay in bed because it feels so nice and sitting up would require too much effort.
This morning marked my third morning workout. I am back at the gym! Insert celebration here! I'm a little sore. I'm noticing a minuscule amount of tiredness. But the slight tiredness is nothing compared to the huge benefit: exercise makes me a calm person.
For the past month and a half, I have been acting like a hyperactive toddler with a Type A personality, complete with crying breakdowns and irrational behavior. I've been trying to do everything. Be the perfect teacher, plan awe-inspiring detailed lessons, bring hours of work home each night, sign up for everything, cook gourmet meals, learn Spanish, read two books each night. Every time I had a break, I felt guilty because I thought I should be getting something done.
Since Sunday, these anxious feelings have slowly dissipated. So much so, that I have amazingly found the time to blog, which I have deeply missed during my psychotic bout of overachievement.
Tomorrow marks day 4. Spin class, here I come.
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I always admire people who can work out in the morning. Good job!
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