The hardest part about the gym isn’t the workout part.
It’s the bit that comes before: getting there.
Dragging your arse over when you’re knackered from work and you can think of a gazillion other things you’d rather be doing (… like napping, watching The Sinner, hanging out with your partner or eating peanut butter out of the jar).
I’ve had days where I wake up with the best of intentions but by lunch time, I know the gym simply isn’t happening. Worse? I’d leave work fully meaning to go to the gym, but when I got home to change clothes… Well let’s just say the couch is the devil on my shoulder. Peeling myself off that thing after a long day at work is a job in itself.
And that’s when I realised that’s the phase I had to cut out. Getting home is my kryptonite. And I daresay it’d be a similar situation for anyone who has a couch and a hint of sloth in their spirit. (So, most people.)