March 10, 2011 4 Comments
When it comes to working out, last week was one of the worst I’ve had in a long, long while. You see, since 1990, my first year in college, I’ve had this 3-Day Rule. Simply put, I forbade myself from ever taking more than three days off from working out. And except for maybe three or four times, I’ve made good on that promise. No matter what– birthday, illness, holidays, even on my honeymoon as my wife would attest– when and if that fourth day hit, I made sure I did something. Whether it was going for a quick run, doing some push-ups and sprints in the driveway, or going to the grocery store to buy gallon milk containers to use as makeshift dumbbells, I made sure I got my workout in.
Fast forward–um– a few years and I’m proud to admit that, even though I seldom break that pact with myself, I’m much less restrictive now, forgiving myself for the occasional lapse. Even then, though, I make sure the workouts that I am able to get in make up for the ones I missed. Read more of this post