Why Must I Drag Myself to Exercise Class Knowing I’ll Feel Great Afterwards?

I exercised five consecutive days this week and hated every minute of it. Like seriously, I hate to exercise, unless it’s a casual stroll with a friend where we can talk about everything and nothing, solve all the problems in the world in less than an hour and I don't ever breathe heavily. In that case, I’m all in. But these classes at the gym I’ve been taking feel like they hover somewhere between if you’re lucky you might crawl out of this room and there is a possibility you might die here.

Okay, I’m exaggerating a little but I'm not lying when I say it takes every ounce of my brain power to convince myself not to lay around like I'm imitating a bag of flour, drive to the gym, and then vigorously move my body to bass-thumping dance music at 8-freaking am.

I complain to myself before I exercise and in between grunts, I complain while I exercise. There have also been a few occasions when I’m driving to the gym thinking, “I could turn this car around right now...”

But here’s the thing, after the class is over something wonderful happens. I get a happy feeling. Except “happy” isn’t a strong enough word to describe the sensation. I’m a little full of myself because I DID IT and I am still able to walk (on shaky legs). I’m so energized that I could power a thousand light bulbs and set things on fire with my brain. That’s how great an exercise high is.  

But the next morning, I’m like Drew Barrymore in that 50 First Dates movie where she has short-term memory loss and forgets everything that happened the previous day. 

As soon as I wake, the drag-your-feet exercise dread is back. I start mentally crabbing and don’t want to leave my house, my bed, or even move my arms unless it’s to put a piece of bacon in my mouth. But I’m too lazy to make the bacon, so there’s that.

You would think I’d want to relive that insane exercise high and run to the gym Six Million Dollar Man style but nope. No deal. WHY??!!

I have a plethora of other sh*t to obsess about these days, but I can't stop wondering why my brain keeps allowing my slothfulness to dominate because would it be that hard to give my unlazy side a flying chance?

Anyway, I have no inspiring conclusion to this other than to say WTH! OMG! WAH! etc.