The Real Reason I Picked Up Exercising Again... You definitely won't guess it.

Firstly, I should start off by saying that I am not even remotely interested in exercise. I would rather read a good book or gauge out my eyeballs. But alas, I've succumbed to it because of health. After all, if you don't have good health then you can't enjoy your life to the fullest. 

However, it was hard for me to get started. I would end up saying things like... oh I'll start Monday (because everything we try and achieve starts on that day right?!), oh I have a paper cut, oh maybe after this last roast dinner, and so on. But then something happened. 

My motivation did not stem from the fact that I wanted to look more appealing. Nor was it because I wanted to get through 5 flights of stairs without huffing and puffing. No... my motivation was because of The Walking Dead. 

OK, so I don't know if any of you do this, but I tend to imagine scenarios quite a lot in my old noggin. In fact, I'm pretty sure I have an overactive imagination. One day, as I was watching The Walking dead (one of my favourite shows), I started thinking about what I would do in such a situation. Does anyone else every do that?

There I was, picturing myself  trying to run away from impending doom. My first thoughts were of creating weapons from household items, which, let's face it, would have been a disaster, seeing as I have nothing worthwhile in my possession.  Then I would take inventory of the food supplies, which, knowing me, would have been super low because I was too lazy to go to the grocery store the day before. Next would come the plan of scavenging, and that's when I realised that I would only be able to muster up enough strength to become an onscreen extra in an excerpt of a prologue. The tiny blip of action that gets you hooked to a story, saving your emotions for the main, heroic characters.  I would be the appetiser. A quick feast of non-epic proportions. It would probably end in a, palm to the face moment. A moment that makes you concede with a sigh as you realise you never stood a chance. And there I'd be, dragging my upper torso at a glacial pace, while my lower limbs trailed by an intestine 3 feet away. 

I did not want to be just a blip when an apocalyptic occurrence waged war. I wanted to survive. So the only course of action was to train as if I was Rambo on steroids. 

All in all, even though my humorous thoughts were that of fictitious scenarios, it did motivate me to get up off my fat ass and move a little. I of course don't train like Rambo, but I'm slowly getting there. I try and find entertaining ways to motivate myself. Whether it be through a new routine, or pushing myself to see how many sets I can do, or  even letting images of me running away from zombies, meteors, or for that matter, any other doomsday scenarios that might pop into my head.  I guess the point is, to find things that push you to better yourself. It doesn't matter what they are. It can be for the most absurd of reasons. At the end of the day your goal is to become the version of you that you see in your dreams. A happy version, one that you can be proud of. And if zombies can get you there, then why the hell not?! 

 😂