I never thought I’d write this down someday. Me, working out? With consistency and pleasure on top of that? Nah, no way.
And yet. It’s been six months since I started working out again.
I’m a 22-year-old woman. I’ve always been pretty active. In my childhood and adolescence, not a year went by without me joining a sports club.
Watch: The horoscopes working out. Post continues below.
Then I moved to Paris, and I quit. Mainly because everything was very expensive. I missed it. I realised that sport was a way out and a way not to gain (too much) weight.
But every time I decided to work out a bit at home, to sign up for the gym, or to go running, I took no pleasure in it. It was a constraint. Even a burden on my day. After a few weeks, I’d give up.
Last October, I felt like starting over.
I believe that for the first time, it was a conscious step, motivated by a quest for myself. I knew why I wanted to work out. And I also knew what I had to do, and not do, so I wouldn’t give up after a few sessions.