It's Okay To Feel Beautiful

When my alarm went off at 7:00 am this morning, I began to regret this whole "waking up early to get exercise to be fit and healthy" deal I had going for the last couple days. Which is absurd because I got plenty of sleep last night. But once I opened my eyes, and started adjusting to the real world, I began to feel energized and powerful. Although I laid around for a little while longer, getting my fill of social media, I finally got up, and got dressed for my run. I did some pre-run abs and of course my 10, albeit sad, completed push-ups. I jogged the four warm-up blocks to Plaza Almagro, and I started the clock. Four laps, and ten minutes later, I was huffing and puffing and cursing a little bit, but I was happy. After my lunges I straight up wanted to collapse, but instead I made my way home, smiling and triumphant.

10 minutes. In retrospect, running for 10 minutes is nothing. At the rate that I run, it's probably not even a mile. It especially hurts me to see myself suck this much after running 5 miles during the summer, but I have nobody to blame but myself. I am the one who stopped working out, stopping pushing myself, stopped trying. Hell, I could be up to ten miles by now but I gave up. So, I have to start from scratch, and scratch is 10 minutes. I'm really not too upset because in four months, I'm going to be able to run 7 miles. 

After I finished my workout, I came home and cooled off to my green tea, banana, and an episode of Grey's Anatomy. After all I earned it after pushing myself that last stretch. After I showered, I decided that I wanted to treat myself to a nice head of straightened hair. After all was said and done, I looked in the mirror to find me smiling back at myself. Wow, I thought, I look pretty today. The reason that I can't give up is for moments exactly like this one. Moments where I really and truly love the skin I'm in. Granted, my hair was straightened instead of wild and fluffy, my legs were shaved and lotion-ed, and I had a bit of makeup on. Nevertheless I was liking the girl who was staring back at me in the mirror. I was simply wearing running shorts and a sweatshirt, and that's how I  know I'm on my way to genuine self-love. 

After my class, I decided that I would rather sit in a café and read, blog, and nourish my body instead of going home to sit on a couch or lay in a bed and watch Netflix. So here I am at Café Tolva, where I just downed an amazing chicken cesar salad and I'm currently sipping on green tea. On cup number 7 today. I'm full and happy and warm and I'm loving life. 

If this is what exercise does to a person, how could I have quit on it? 

I'm sure people look at my instagram or my Facebook and wonder why I'm constantly posting pictures of myself, why am I constantly updating the social media world of my workouts, my meals, etc. I'm sure some people wish I would just keep it to myself, or get a diary.
The reason I am so public with my journey is not because I want everyone to like my photos or tell me what I great job I'm doing. I know I'm kicking ass. I do it because I need to hold myself responsible. Not only do I post the good, but the bad as well. I do it because I can easily lie to myself: "I'll go run later. I didn't just eat ten cookies. Blah, blah, blah." But pictures don't lie, and I can't upload a picture of something I didn't do. So for all those who are inconvenienced by my endless amounts of running selfies and motivational quotes, feel free to unfollow/unfriend whatever you need to do, and I'll do what needs to be done.