powering through it

Each morning I come in to the city for work, I work for an hour and then hit the gym. Many days I am tempted to skip the gym (I'm always tempted to skip the work part of my day, but that rarely works out). After all, I play soccer two or three times a week and I'm in pretty good shape. But most of the time I grit my teeth and power through the laziness and get my butt over to the gym.

Then, while I'm there, every pause in exercise (typically I lift weights, so there are a lot of pauses) gives my Inner Couch Potato an opportunity to speak. "Maybe we can skip this set," he says. Or, "You know, you don't need to do that many reps." Or, "You feel tired. That must be your body telling you to slow down." But I power through it (most of the time) and, after finishing, feel great about the workout.

I realized this morning that writing is often like that. The inner editor or critic pipes up at every pause. The many demands of house, family, work, and daydreaming clamor for attention. And often I give in to those voices when I wouldn't give in to my Inner Couch Potato about exercise. Why is that? Doesn't matter, I suppose. I just need to power through that writing time no matter what.

Easier said than done some days.