Pity-party over. No really, it IS. I've moved on to p*ssed. I'm ticked to the extreme, and that's usually when things start happening. I know, right? Took me long enough.
Have I been eating the best I could the last week or two?
No. I've been dillydallying about, eating at the high end of my range, even over.
Have I been putting in the effort and time to be fit and combat the change in habits?
No. I've been active, but not as active as I could be. Hello, Strength Training anyone??
Have I made ANY adjustments at ALL for quitting smoking?
Then shut the *bleep* up and move on d*mnit!
I get a little cussy when I get ticked to the extreme.
So yea, I'm up to 239.2 this morning. Whatever. It's a number. It's not the end-all, be-all. That sucker will change again tomorrow, and I'll deal with it. I was going to whine and moan s'more, but I checked SP to see how many calories whining burns and guess what? It doesn't!
Instead, I dressed up in layers, checked the hourly forecast for Portland, tied on my runners, and went to the golf course to run the trail. Yea, it's more of a slow jog walk thing, but I'm calling it running because it's MY version of running.
The trail is usually pretty busy, even on drizzly days like today, so while Bill drove us there (yes, he went with) I mentally went through all the things people might think about me when they saw me running.
"Whoa! Fatty, you better run."
You're right, I better, and I am. Stuff it.
"Good for you for trying."
Yep, I'm trying, and I'm succeeding.
(One lady ran by me, going the other way, and gave me this big smile, and I grinned back at her. I swear she was saying "you GO girl!" and it felt good)
"Dude! Look at the junk in her trunk. It's more like an overstuffed full-sized pickup bed."
Blow it out your ear, buster.
"What's that on her head?"
It's my toboggan and it makes me happy, d*mnit, leave me alone!
I've had it with the little voice in my head that's trying to defeat me or talk me into returning to slug-like life. I've decided to consider that voice as the voice of Fat. We had a slight disagreement this morning.
"You look ridiculous."
Me? I look ridiculous? Really?
And what, you look super-fly, jiggling around on my *ss and my gut? Step off jack, you're through here.
Told you I've been feeling like Sybil lately.
I haven't been on the trail in.. must be a month now. I've missed it. You can go clockwise or counter-clockwise. We usually go counter-clockwise, to avoid starting out up the big long hill. This morning, I wanted that big long hill.
I NEEDED that big long hill.
Just like losing weight, taking a while to actually SEE the results of my efforts, I needed to FEEL the results of quitting smoking Nov. 1. I felt it this morning.
I FELT IT THIS MORNING YEA!!!
I motored up that hill like nobody's business. Yea, I was winded when I got to the top, but I didn't feel like I was going to fall over and pass out. I felt GOOD. It was worth it!
I did my run. C25K W5D1. I ran the first 5 min. run completely. After that, I probably made it through 3-4 mins. of each 5 min. run, but kept on going, kept on trying. So what if I didn't run every step of every interval. I ran. I ran my best. I kept making deals with myself - run to that tree. Oh, the tree's almost here, you can make it to the bushes now. Get to the top of the hill and you can walk. Ok, enough walking, run now. RUN!
I did. And when I was done, I'd covered 2 miles in 32 minutes, and met up with Bill. He had walked and run at his own pace, doing his own thing. We decided to walk at least one more mile together, and we played around as we did. I mean, he'd take off running, and I'd wait a few heartbeats, then take off after him. He's quick for an old dude! (Don't tell him I said that) We played catch-up back and forth for the last mile, talking and laughing, and it felt like I was healed from whatever mopey whiney affliction had taken hold of me.
Yea, I still weigh 239.2 lbs. Probably. Maybe more. Most likely. Whatever. I didn't weigh myself when I got home. I care, but I don't. I don't deserve to whine anymore. Heck, even if I'm doing every single thing possible in the world to lose weight and I don't lose another ounce, I don't deserve to whine.
I love and appreciate your support, every single one of you. Someone needed to kick my *ss, though, and get me fired up. Call it tough love. Call it a reality check. Call it whatever. Who knew I could lift my foot that high, backwards, to kick my own caboose?
My weight does not define me. I am so many more things than my weight. It'll be nice IF/when I start losing again, but even if I don't, I'm winning at life.
So take that, Fat, and get bent.