I always come back to Footbiking!

Amy Donaldson is my favorite columist for the Deseret News Paper.
Below is a copy of her latest article. I loved it. Does anyone else ever feel this way. I do. Although I have fallen so madly in love with Footbiking that I always come back to it. When I try to go running,rollerblading or biking I have fun, but feel so much satisfaction when I get back to my Footbike.
So like Pete Hummers put it on his blog. Amy Ditch them all except the Footbike.
http://scootersport.wordpress.com/2010/04/08/i-say-she-ditch-it-all-except-the-footbiking/



I made the decision, now why can't I stick with it?
by Amy Donaldson (Deseret News)
When I was a kid, I loved to navigate a tough obstacle course.
Nothing excited me more than when a physical education teacher or camp director led us out to a field or playground full of physical — and sometimes mental — challenges.
Now it seems my daily life is an obstacle course — and one I am far less enthusiastic to attack.
Instead of running through tires as fast as I can, I am standing in the kitchen trying to resist the lure of brownies brought to my house for the holiday celebration. Let me tell you, tires are way, way easier than staring down chocolate mint brownies — and then walking away.
Sure, climbing that rope fence was hard. I remember my arms shaking, my heart pounding. But an even greater challenge? Feeling my stomach growl as I run from errand to errand and resisting the urge to pull into the nearest drive-through. (And please don't tell me I could order a salad. Some may do that. I do not. I might as well set fire to my $5 because I think I'm allergic to fast-food salad.)
OK, crossing bars were actually fun. You could use your body's momentum to swing from bar to bar, sometimes two at a time.
And while I honestly love a lot of the activities I engage in to keep myself fit, it seems I stare down, negotiate with or endure different roadblocks nearly every day.
I tell myself on any given day, "Ignore that aching hip."
"Do stair climber or bike rather than run with a splitting headache."
"Sweating really will help clear my stressed-out brain."
"My house will not be that much cleaner if I just take an hour to go for a run."
"The dishes will wait while I footbike with my daughter."
"Spending money to run a race is worth every penny."
"You really are much tougher than this. Your life is more important that watching last night's episode of 'Lost' or reading the end of that book — RIGHT NOW!"
And then once I get to the gym, I seem to struggle. I always have a workout or a goal, whether I'm going to the gym, riding my bike or running a trail.
So why do I constantly try to renegotiate with myself the workout — AFTER I'VE STARTED!
My husband says he has no trouble working hard once he's at the gym. Getting there is the toughest part for him.
Unfortunately for me, being there — on a trail or in the gym — is just the beginning. I stare at the equipment. I toy with the idea of a new class I see starting. I wonder if I should have gone swimming.
I know I was going to run, but how about a cycling class? I start out prepared to run six miles and suggest, ever-so-innocently to myself, that running four would probably be good enough. Besides, the rest of my life is waiting, impatiently, for me to attend to it. Oh, and I could always run an extra couple miles the next day. You know, when I have more time? NOT!
I know I wrote down three circuits of weights, but I pushed hard through. And then I could do the rowing machine for 20 minutes to make up for skipping a set.
UGH! I want to ground myself. Except, that's apparently what my silly psyche wants.
No doubt. Each day is that obstacle course. There are stairs to climb, reasons to quit. There are aches and pains and colds and strains. I feel the lack of motivation, the guilt that comes with procrastination.
And then, miraculously, I manage to maneuver through one problem. I put my running shoes on despite the 20-minute bloody nose. I run the four miles I told myself I needed to run. And surprise, I feel great!
The next day it starts all over. I manage to make it to the gym — at 7:30 at night — but I make it. Then I finish that third circuit because I don't want to cheat myself.
That's the thing about the obstacle course that is life. No one is timing you. The race, the competition, is all yours. You can fail miserably one day and reign supreme the next day.