Day 8: Searching For My Super Suit

This post comes to you during a seriously craved study break, so I thank you, my readers, for giving me the opportunity to set aside the Interpretation of Legislation Act 1984 for a few minutes.

I had a pretty serious JFDI moment today. For those of you who don't know me, I'm a pretty excellent procrastinator. I'm totally capable of getting home and not achieving anything for two hours. Case in point: today.

So I get home and I'm sitting on my balcony with a bottle of water, sweltering in this incessant Melbourne heat, and I know that it's time to exercise. I've been to the supermarket and I've got uni work to do, but I need to exercise before dinner. I'm sitting there, on my computer, doing the Alex shuffle. Gmail, Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Pinterest. Rinse and repeat.

It's getting to 6:30 and I know it's time. Like, it's properly time. I promised myself I'd be done with my uni work by 7:00 but I haven't started it yet, and I've got to exercise before dinner because of reasons.

Shuffle, shuffle. Procrastinate, procrasturbate. And then it hits me. I don't have to want to do it. I just have to do it. After all, today on the 10km plan, I had a twenty minute workout session plus stretching. Twenty minutes is oh so achievable, n'est-ce pas?

So I force myself out of my seriously comfy chair, and I'm running around my bedroom trying to find my socks and runners and sports bra and fluorescent leggings and tank-top. And I find my iPod and my headphones and I untangle the cords. And I'm almost out the door when I realise that I don't have my heart rate monitor.

Now, I haven't been using it for a few days because I temporarily misplaced the bit that plugs into the chest strap (hurray for technical language and expertise!), but I've found it and it's going to be a heart rate monitored work-out. But I just can't find the watch.

It's like that scene in The Incredibles, where Frozone is trying to find his Super Suit. He and his wife are just yelling back and forward because she's sent it to be dry-cleaned and he needs it RIGHT NOW and not in five minutes or tomorrow, because he's got something to do.

That's me. Arguing with myself.

I know that if I stop looking for it, my workout will be more and more delayed, so I keep looking. Eventually I find it in the least logical place in the world. My gym bag.

I finally get out the door with my shoes tied, my fringe pinned back and tucked under a very attractive headband, my heart rate monitor ticking away and my iPod blasting cheesy 80s music. I'm standing in the corridor, waiting for the lift to come because we can't use the stairs except in a fire. And it just won't come.

So what do I do? I have a bit of a dance party in the corridor. I later realised that I was in full view of the security camera, so hopefully the security guy got a giggle out of my jam sesh. Finally, the lift arrives and I'm whisked off to the gym.

And that is my very long tale of how I lost my HRM watch and danced for my building's security guard.

My workout was comparatively pain-free. Eventually, A Little Priest from Sweeney Todd got me through to the end. It's an amazing song if you've never heard it. The basic gist is that Sweeney has decided to start baking people into pies, and he and his business partner are discussing what people would taste like. Actor always arrives overdone, and you can get shepherd's pie with shepherd on top!

Just trust me.

Thanks for the study break, everyone! Tune in next time for more wacky adventures of Alex, including, I'm sure, losing my HRM again.

Peace out, bra!
Alex xo