Motivation

I have exercised 6 days a week for a little over a year now. I run every morning but Sunday. I don't love it. I am jealous of people who enjoy working out. I am envious when I hear people refer to their run as their "me time".  My ideal "me time" consists of lounging in my soft bed, eating my favorite chocolate ice cream while I watch a good movie. I suppose running has become my "me time", but not in the traditional sense of the phrase. HOWEVER-- even though I don't love it-- I still do it.  I can count on 1 hand the number of days I have missed.  I recognize that it matters. Exercising helps me feel balanced. It is an emotional stabilizer. I enjoy fitting into clothes that wouldn't have even fit me in Junior High. I like the way that my children look at me now. I feel good being an example to them of healthy living. I can feel my body getting stronger and functioning more efficiently. But... even with this long list of motivating factors, it is still hard some mornings to lace up my running shoes. I have had to search for something that REALLY mattered to me. A couple months ago, I found it. I want to write it down, and remember it-- so that in the future when I feel too tired to exercise-- I will muster up the strength to fight for something that truly matters to me! So, what is the motivation?

Alzheimer's.

Honestly, just the word scares me. My Great-Grandpa Klingler had Alzheimer's. He was a great man-- beloved and respected by all who knew him. He was righteous, and such a kind husband and father and grandfather. However, I did not know that piece of him.. My only memory of him is that if you got too close, he would grab onto you really tight and not let go. I also remember having to hide in his basement while he was trying to find his gun because he thought I was an intruder. My Great-Grandpa having the disease makes me more likely to get the disease.

 I think that Alzheimer's is one of the cruelest diseases imaginable. The idea of having my memories-- perhaps my most treasured possessions-- stolen from me is terrifying.  It breaks my heart to think of one day not being able to remember being pregnant with each of my precious children, or nursing them while I rubbed their baby-soft hair. I want to always remember the excitement and pain of sending them to the first days of school, the pride on their face when they first learned to ride a bike, and the moments when they needed me to kiss a scraped knee or help heal a broken heart. I want to remember their graduations and wedding days. I don't want to ever forget the first time my husband and I ever kissed, the moment he saw me in my wedding dress, or the time that we stayed up talking until 3 in the morning simply because we didn't want to say good-night. I want to remember Christmases and family vacations. I want to remember every single piece of this life I've been given. I DO NOT WANT TO FORGET.

Of course, the irony is that Alzheimer's is only scary as an impending possibility. If my memories are ever "stolen away", I won't even know it is happening. The ones who will really suffer are my children and my grandchildren. I don't want to be the creepy Grandma that pulls your hair if you stand too close. I love my family so much, and want to be able to show them that profound love until the day I die.

If I exercise regularly, my chance of getting Alzheimer's is cut in half. So that is my motivation. And, for me it is enough. More than enough to keep me running everyday.  And, if the day ever comes, that Alzheimer's makes its way into my wonderfully blessed life-- then my children will be able to know that I did ALL I could do to prevent it. And, I hope that they will also know that, while my mind won't be working perfectly, my love for them has always been-- and will always be a perfect love.