Nothing for Charity

Along with the goals (see previous post for the necessary unrealistic optimism), I am setting myself some rules.

Nothing for Charity.
This may seem an odd one. I am the mum of three kids with SN, I have been lucky enough to receive charitable support for my family in many different areas, from holidays to specialist equipment to grants for therapy. Why would I begrudge picking a charity to sponsor me, as I lumber towards slightly less-podgy fitness? Why would I not want to ask my friends for a bit of generosity, financial support?
The answer is multi-faceted. Partly I have a deep, almost instinctive discomfort at the idea of someone sponsoring me to do something I want and need to do anyway. Partly I am aware that actually, I rather like my friends, particularly the many I have made and kept through FB and the like, and I don't want to put them off, become one of those people who exploits those connections by asking for funds, even for a worthy cause. Partly I don't feel that I want anything to make this more pressured, I don't want the possibly quite tough and dreary job of getting fit to be overlaid with anything worthy or self-sacrificing whatsoever. I have quite enough of that in the rest of my life. And partly, I just feel, well, you know, I am tired of begging for money and help for my kids, I don't have the heart and energy right now to do it for anyone else. So, if you're reading, feel safe. You can keep in touch and wish me luck without being asked for a tenner.

Nothing That Will Injure Me
I am being really careful to STOP, slow down, or change direction, any time I feel a little pull or a tug. Devil-May-Care Cumulus Young Version would not have done this. She would have pushed herself and waited for the pain to subside. But Devil-May-Care Young Cumulus did not have three children to look after, and a body that kept being injured by the normal routine of lifting and carrying small bodies, well, bodies that are needing to be carried and lifted slightly longer than the average child. The idea is health, not killing myself. The last thing I need is to wreck my knees or feet. Why, that would just give me more excuses to stop exercising.

Not Getting Angry With Myself For Being So Rubbish At Stuff
One of the great things, and frankly there weren't many, about the collection of diagnoses that my children have acquired over the last few years, was realising that actually I was almost certainly dyspraxic, rather than just mysteriously clumsy and rubbish at sport. This is helping me in the water, and in the gym, and also in the exercise classes I have very foolishly been taking. Instead of getting angry that I can't keep up with everyone else, that I can't follow simple steps and that when I try to turn my head to breathe in the pool I take in more water than a whale, I stop and think. I remind myself that I am not built like everyone else, that I need to break what I am learning into small steps, that I may take longer to learn the basics and never keep up with a dance routine, but that that is OK, because it is not a failure on my part, just the way God made me and I must accept that and work with the body I have, rather than the imaginary perfect one I would like. So I take a deep breath (OK, not in the water) and get on with what I can manage. I have, in short, learnt to have patience with myself, the same way I try to have patience with my kids.