Geez. It’s ten-thirty in the morning, and I’ve been wide awake for two hours. A self-avowed night owl, I’ve woken up at eight-thirty for the last four days, ever since I changed my diet and started intermittent fasting. Is this what skinny people do–wake up early? Metabolize?

I will not become a morning person, I will not become a morning person.

Last night my dad and I went to the gym after I finished blogging, about eleven-thirty. We started this routine last winter when I was doing rehab for my knee, but after six months of going every day or every other day, I rebelled. Fuck the gym, I thought. Of course, they kept charging me for my membership. Every month they take out eleven dollars. “It’s like giving your money away,” someone told me recently. Yes, it’s exactly like that. It is that. Anyway, although Dad’s kept up his routine, I just started back this week.

I can feel my six-pack already.

That’s a lie.

Normally I don’t write during the daytime, but today promises to be pretty long. In a while I’m going to lunch with a friend, then running an errand, then working out again, since unfortunately and apparently it’s not something you can do just once and see results. (Boo hiss). Then I’m cleaning up and going to a concert/dance. A client has hired me to be their partner/leader–oh hell, I’ll just say it–dance gigolo.

It’s all very glamorous, I know.

Anyway, since the event is out of town, it promises to be a late night. And since my body won’t let me sleep in anymore, if i write when I get home, I’ll be a zombie tomorrow. And that won’t do. That simply won’t do.

One thing I’ve noticed about intermittent fasting is that it’s allowed me to slow down. Normally, no matter what time I wake up, my day starts as soon as my feet hit the floor. I go to the bathroom, turn on the stove, crack open three eggs to scramble for breakfast. It’s a whole routine. After eating, I brush my teeth and am out the door–to work, whatever. But now that I’m waking up earlier and not eating breakfast, I have time–to think about the day ahead, to pray, to prepare, to be intentional. Intentional. That’s something I “intend” to be with this diet. Sunday night I made a list of things I wanted to do this week–eat according to plan, dance, work out three times, go for at least one walk, bleach my teeth. I plan to make (reasonable) lists like this every Sunday night for the next year so I can both evaluate my progress and continue to see results. It’s not difficult, but it does require slowing down.

Good health doesn’t just happen.

Especially in the world of dollar menus.

Crap. Now I’m thinking about double cheeseburgers.

Whenever I’m gone from the gym for a while, I feel guilty. Because I haven’t been loyal. Because I haven’t been a good gym student. Because I’ve gained ten pounds. I imagine when I walk through the door for the first time in a while that the staff will passive aggressively say, “Where have you been–Porky?” Of course, this never happens. When Dad and I returned to the gym this week, the said, “Hey guys!” and that was it. This is what I’ve been thinking about this morning, that the gym welcomes you back with open arms. It’s simply this space to work out in, and all you have to do is show up (and pay). Whenever you’re ready. Likewise, there are few things in life that push us along, that demand that we get out of bed, go to work, and fill every minute of every day with–stress. I mean, maybe you have a demanding spouse or kid, but for the most part, you’re the one who pushes you. (The truth–even if you have someone demanding in your life, you’re the one who pushes you.) I’m the one who pushes me.

The good news is that at any point, we can slow down. At any point, we can be intentional.