Two years ago, right now (another lurid tale from the scale)
This is not going to be a woe-is-me, what-the-hell-happened kind of blog post. In case you're wondering. Nope. Not going to go there.
Okay, maybe just a tiny bit.
I was going through my iPhoto library over the weekend, looking for some specific shots for a project and came across a series of photos of me in my hallway mirror in October 2010, and I remembered what it felt like to have a new skirt, new boots and a new waistline to match.
This was me at 141 pounds, after losing 41 extra libbies. This was me after 10 months of religious adherence to the Weight Watchers plan. This was me, thinking, "Oh yeah, baby. NOW life begins!"
I so got this.
Of course, I did not 'so got that'. Not really. Not at all, some might have said.
So began the past two years of slowly moving back up the BMI chart. When I started teaching Move More, Eat Well, I was very inspired at the idea of making changes that would stick. When that class began, I had worked my way up to around 160, and I was hell bent on getting back to where I'd once landed.
It didn't quite work out that way.
One of the positives of the past two years, however, is a commitment to getting my move on. Whether it's been running, walking, swimming, biking, or hanging out with Jillian Michaels in my family room, I've made the effort to Move More whenever possible. And I've realized that even if it isn't the magic key to weight loss, it is a key to a clearer mind and a calmer heart.
The summer, specifically August, saw a huge drop off in my exercise habits. I could make some tepid excuses about bone spurs and foot pain, but as I have learned, there are always other things you can do. I just got sloppy.
And if I get sloppy in moving my body, the food component—or rather, the crappy food component—catches up in a big way. And fast.
In my class this year, it has been all about keeping it real and not giving up. Even when you feel defeated. Even when you start to think, as I have, "Oh, shit. Here we go again."
As I sit here typing, following a 3.5 mile run where things didn't really hurt all that bad, glowing red like a freshly cooked lobster, I still believe that I have the capability of living a healthy, fit life. That I can figure out this insane sugar habit I seem to have picked up in my life. That I can be the changes I truly want to see.
I mean, hells bells, I quit smoking. I think that qualifies me to do just about anything.
So I'm puffy right now. So I'm not doing what I know how to do.
There's really no need to mope about now is there? Every day is a whole new ball game.
The possibilities are actually pretty endless.
That's where my head is today.
How about you?