For the uninitiated, CBF is an acronym (and hopefully slightly less offensive term) for CAN’T BE F#CKED.
I’d love to have been able to tell you that Operation Short Term Hard Core was coming along swimmingly. That I was taking the increased training (including doubling of my cardio), the super strict clean eating rules that I apply to my 12wbt eating plan and the pressure of being so close to attaining my goals – in my stride.
Most of the time, I have been.
Today, I did not.
Today there was a killer attack of the CBF’s. I woke up, got the baby out of bed, changed him and fed kid#1 and kid#2 their breakfast. By fed, I mean cooked and left them with it. Then I went back to bed. CBF getting up right now.
I woke up realising I now only had 15 minutes to get kid#1 ready for school and myself and kid#2 dressed and ready for school drop-off. I toyed with the idea of just not taking the child to school. Home day for everyone. Such was the extent of the CBF.
But I did it. School drop off done. To the gym.
From the moment I had to lever myself out of the car I knew it was going to be a hard slog.
My heart wasn’t in it. I stomped my way through a warm up on the elliptical, tossed out some half-hearted sets of chest and arm weights, had to do my pushups from my knees rather than my toes and generally felt flat and hopeless. After finishing a short session with more cardio for a measly 300-ish calories I left. I just couldn’t shake the CBF’s.
I felt crappy about it all day.
So I went to get a spray tan to trial a colour before the trip to the 12wbt finale. Little known fact: This little Sailor is fair as fair. Like, I’m blue. But blue will not cut it in glamorous Sydney.
Apparently getting a tan is a simple process. Get 99% nude, let a total stranger spray you with tint and then tell you not to sweat, bump or brush past things, let any moisture touch you in any way. For at least two hours.
I suck at spray tans. Or at not ruining them in the LONGEST 2 HOURS EVER.
Actually I made all the marks in the first 20 minutes. It’s not great.
But something magical happened in the time I spent trying desperately not to ruin my tan (whilst ruining it anyway). I decided to tell the mental CBF’s to Eff Off.
I went back to the gym. I did a pump class using the heaviest weights I’m capable of. I poured sweat. Then I jumped on my slow cardio machines for another hour. I came out of there just shy of 1000 calories.
Moral of the story? J F D I
Just F#cking Do It.
I won’t wake up everyday wanting to slog it out at the gym. I won’t love every session I do. Hell, I didn’t even remotely like either of my trips to the gym today. But I did it. And consistency will get me everywhere I want to go.
It won’t help my tan though, that’s f#cked.