Friday, June 14, 2013
Three weeks ago I started exercising regularly for the first time in months. Working out didn't take a back seat - it got shoved out of the car - after fighting cold after cold, then testing/working, parenting...argh.
One week ago I stepped on the scale for the first time in a month. Where did those six pound come from?
So I committed myself to 50 days. Just 50. Exercise regularly, eat better, drink my water, and lose at least those six pounds, but better yet ten to get to that *magic* number we all have in mind as The Happy Weight.
I started off well enough. I'm back on track with the exercise and even the water drinking has come back full force. What is kicking my ever-loving toochis is the darned eating - specifically eating in the evenings. Everything seems to derail my great efforts of the previous twelve hours once I get past, oh, seven o'clock. Emotional eating? Check. Thank you, Miss Almost Nine and your attitude for that one. Boredom? Check. I have a list a mile long of things I need to do and things I want to do, but it seems those snack bags have to come along for the ride. Exhaustion? Check. Last night, 8:00, I am doing my best to stay awake while reading to Miss Almost Five. Then we discover that FLOWER BLANKIE IS MISSING. I start shoveling my secret stash of jelly beans down my gullet to have the wherewithal to find the thing. (Thank you sugar for jumpstarting my brain...and then keeping it awake longer than needed.)
So I work up tired and crabby this morning. Still did my workout, but our time was worse than normal since we were both dragging. Enter The Lousy Mood.
Thankfully a cure was in reach - an hour at the beach, to MYSELF. This is always a great mental cure for me as it is, but some extra thinking was prompted when I noticed two women close to my age in running gear toss down their bags, proceed to put on swim gear over it and head into the water. Can you say triathletes in training?
Instead of beating myself up over it though, it really made me think - what is it that I want? What is my end goal in all of this? (Yes, for those of you who stuck around, I am finally getting to the actual point here.) Without a doubt, these women were impressive. Even though one was not much thinner than I, there was simply an aura of strength about her. The other? Let's just say she had abs we all dream about, okay? But what exactly IS my dream? To be a triathlete? To have those abs? And I realized, no, not really. I want to be fit. I want to have the ability to run some distance, swim easily, and heck, maybe own a bike again some day. But not BE a triathlete, whatever that entails. I want to eat healthier - be braver and try things I see in those recipes that I normally avoid like the plague, but I also do not want to have to give up my love of baking and the end results. So I guess I want a healthier version of moderation. Really, it isn't that far out of my grasp, but it will require continued commitment. I'm not in bad shape - but I could be better. I certainly need to eat better. But I need to give myself to freedom to still be me in the process. I guess the next 43 days are going to be about figuring out what steps come next, and how to get there.