Motivate Me!

Do you ever see those amusing Nicorette advertisements on TV and wish you had your own little cheer squad? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QEyqPISdEFc&feature=related OK, maybe not to help you quit smoking, but how about to motivate you to exercise, or to put the block of Camembert down and pick up the celery instead? I know I do! Sure, I wouldn't want them hanging around watching my butt ripple as I run, and sweat glistening off my forehead, taking lines of foundation with it, but I would love to have them suddenly appear just when I am talking myself out of my daily activity.

A catchy little jingle is all I'd need. "Alfie, Alfie, she's our girl, she CAN do it she's so swell" (OK, lame). I am sure I'd be up in an instant, sweat bands on, Ipod ready to go and motivation soaring (hmmm.....).

I had earlier today decided that I was going to have a self-imposed rest day. I've been jogging every day since Sunday and usually do have a few days off here and there. Muscle Man is away on business again so dealing with Jim and Bob (OK, just Jim. Bob is a 7 month old dream) alone is quite enough exercise, thank you. However, the one thing I do know all to well is that the feelings I get after a good workout session can be like a cure-all. I'm tired - I run - I'm awake. I'm angry - I lift weights - I'm happy. I feel like a walrus - I run - I feel lean. Simple. Or so you would think.

I often spend the hours leading up to exercise talking myself out of it. On my right shoulder I have my little "Go Alfie Go" motivational self, clad in a leotard and ready for a workout, Ala; Olivia Newton John Style. On the other shoulder I have my "No Alfie No" lazy self enticingly offering me a pina colada and a deck chair in the sun. It's a tough choice. Usually after several discussions between myself and I, I agree that to enjoy that pina colada I need to EARN that pina colada.

Last night was a particularly frustrating night where Jim was concerned. I'll save you most of the details, but to give you an indication of his cheeky, destructive, 'Dad's away' self, I'll give you the only detail which has any comic value to it. After being in his room for some time, fooling me into believing he was asleep, he pipes up "MUM, MUM!!!!". Expecting to enter his room to find him seeking a cuddle, or a procrastinating good night kiss, I was shocked to discover his room was trashed. Hurricane Jim had well and truly hit. Now, this is not actually unusual. He is his mothers son after all, so a little mess is expected. But, the alarming part of this event was the fact that upon closer inspection I notice that my little Jim has taken his night time nappy off and using his perfect little "I've been practising" boys aim, he had wee'd in one of his ugh boots!! Not a drop could be seen on the floor. Nope, it was all centred squarely in his shoe!

Needless to say today I was STILL exhausted. Whilst both Jim and Bob were having a nap (well, who can really say what Jim was doing now?!) I decided I would take the opportunity to do the same. Just as I was about to take my shoes off and call it an afternoon, I had a little voice pop into my head and remind me that the very best medicine for ME in situations like this is to slog it out on the treadmill.

I must say I am rather glad I did as whilst on my treadmill I noticed several examples of Jim's 3 year old behaviour I may not have otherwise handled so well. A discarded banana peel behind the rocking chair, an enormous clump of the cats hair from when he WWF'ed her this morning, crayon on our flat screen TV, and the most insulting of all, crayon on my treadmill! Yes, that is right, Jim had drawn all over the belt of my 'mill with green crayon. Every 5 seconds the little crayon cloud would slide past my feet.

One of the very MANY benefits of exercise however, is that as the endorphins begin to kick in, I look lovingly at the banana peel and appreciate the fact we can afford to eat, I look at the cat's hair and think how lovely they are friends (?!?!) and I look at the crayon and think that maybe one day I'll have a little Picasso on my hands :) Ahh exercise, it's my own personal LSD!