Before I went to class last night I had already packed my gym bag. I knew that since it was the first class of the semester we would likely be getting out early because everyone knows the first class of the semester in almost any school is usually nothing but B.S. (Syllabus, Rules, Codes of Conduct, Attendance, Get to know the teacher, etc. etc. etc.) So we got out an hour and fifteen minutes early. As I was walking to my car in the freezing cold I was thinking to myself, "I'm tired, I'm cold, I just wanna go home and relax." But then a mental picture of those numbers 1-8-5 flashed in my head and I drove straight to the gym.
I have to be honest with you here. Growing up, I was never extremely athletic. No, that award went to my amazing older brother who was the "Family Athlete": Basketball, Track, and Cross Country to name a few. My sister and I both were involved in Basketball from the age of 9 and up, but other than that, I just wasn't really interested. When I hit sophomore year of High School I even stopped playing basketball and that's when I started gaining the majority of my weight (obviously). My point is this: when I started this weight loss journey I was NOT someone who enjoyed going to the gym and working out. In the beginning I had to look at it as a job of sorts. I had a goal, I knew I had to work to achieve that goal, and even if I hated it (like with many jobs I've had in the past) I knew I HAD to go and workout.