to run away with you...
or indeed the running that i've not been doing this week.
and i know i should. and i keep reading about other bloggers who are at the beginning of their running journey. And that makes me feel guilty. but doesn't motivate me out of bed at 6am.
However, pilates tonight and the desire to be more bootylicious that a tsunami of flesh at an upcoming ball all indicate that this worm must turn.
i may have to resort to sticking my own star sticker chart up on the wall and earning me a wee twinkle every day. Needs must when the devil is sticking wobbly bits on your thighs, eh?
Plus it would sort my head out and what with fibrosis on one side, strokes on the other and a sandwich filling of endo pains and not always getting what i want (not quite in a princess foot stamping way, more in a 'loving arms around me' field), i really need to shake a few bits and pieces out of my bonce.
So. Self motivation. Global killer that it is. If only we had it, we'd be running this place, surely.