One Pound a Week

February 1st already!  January was such a hectic month, I blinked and it was gone.

I came to the realization yesterday that I just have too much going on to devote the energy and time to weight loss that I thought I could.  Setting weekly goals, or vowing to reach goal weight by a certain date, is just adding more strain and piling on more responsibility that I don’t want or need.

I have so much dumped on me at work right now, it’s positively absurd.  My to-do list runs onto a second sheet of paper every day.  I am interrupted constantly, and I am astounded at the random things my co-workers ask for my assistance with, everything from an error message on the copy machine to someone’s computer freezing to someone not being able to log into e-mail.  A co-worker once told me that happens because I seem to know what I am doing, but how that translates into me being a copy machine technician or an IT expert, I have no idea.  All I know is, it gets frustrating when I am incessantly interrupted from things I really need to get done.

Today I wrapped up a major project I’ve been chipping away at for weeks, so I am taking a small break to catch up on my blog and read some others.  So…hi!

By the time I leave work, I don’t have the mental or physical energy or motivation to do much else.  My husband and my stepson are great with keeping up with chores around the house, so I usually come home to the trash already taken out, floor swept, dinner started.  It’s wonderful.  But I am wound so tight from being keyed up, in a rush, and under pressure all day long, I don’t know how to unwind once I get home.

So the last few days, my workouts have slid off my evening to-do list.  I know I am not doing myself any favors.  I need those workouts right now more than ever, for my health and my weight loss and my well-being.  But just the thought of trying to fit in a workout set my nerves on edge, and facing one more obligation makes me snarl, bare my claws, and roar “Bite me!”  I realized I was chafing under the idea of another deadline, another item on my task list, something else to measure and evaluate and track…

It doesn’t need to be that way.  I am removing all expectations of running a half-marathon anytime soon, or any other deadline-focused goals.  It just can’t happen right now.  I am burning the candle at a million ends, and there isn’t enough of me left to worry about one more damn thing.  That is just how it is.

So no more “x pounds a week” goals, or pressure on myself to run a certain number of miles, or reach a certain weight by a certain date.  I have one goal for myself: aim for one pound a week.  That’s it.  I need to cut myself some slack for now.

My fresh, new, blank workout log for February is ready to go, waiting for me to log some workouts.  They don’t need to be power-lifting, Olympic-training, all-out workouts.  I just need to get moving, a little something each day.  I need to make the time for that, and I need to consider it a gift to myself, not just one more thing to get done.

Working Out Sucks

There is one absolute truth in life that all of us can agree upon: working out when you are fat SUCKS.  Hell, just getting dressed to work out when you are overweight sucks.  Spandex?  On this body?  What the hell were you thinking, clothing designers?

I am sure the day will come, in some foggy, distant future, when I actually like working out again.  That day is not today.  Or tomorrow.  Not until a huge amount of this extra weight is gone, but I suppose the only way to do that is to work out, eh?

Ack.  I dragged myself to the gym the past two evenings and got reacquainted with the treadmill.  I’m still shocked at how badly being sick knocked me on my ass.  My endurance and lung capacity are zilch, nada, none, non-existent.  It’s scary how much damage it caused, and how long it’s taking to recover.

I’m just taking it easy and letting my body decide how long I run, and at what pace.  I went a little longer last night than the day before, so that’s a good sign.

It’s been a long, busy week!  I’m ready for the weekend.  My three younger stepkids will be home for the weekend, so it’s going to be a full (and loud, and rambunctious) house for a few days.

Confession

I have a confession: I have been just a bit sketchy lately.  First, I started skipping weigh-ins.  Then I would weigh in but not post it on my weigh-in page.  Then I threw a password onto my weigh-in page, so that the whole world couldn’t see it.

Then I wisely smacked myself in the head.  What good does it do to hide the truth?  Honestly, if I just lie about my weight gain, could I ever in a million years actually believe that it doesn’t show for everyone to see, anyway?

So no more bullshitting.  No more stupid games or pretending.  I have updated my weigh-in page, removed the password, and am baring all to the world.  After reaching 157 pounds in July, I have blown up like a puffer fish back up to…*gulp*…200.6 pounds.  God, that hurt to even type.  Yep, I am back over 200 pounds, somewhere I said I would never be again.

I’m not going to pretend I have any excuses or reasons for this weight gain.  It has been laziness and overeating, pure and simple.  I’ve had a lot going on lately, burning the candle at both ends, but I didn’t gain this weight in the last few weeks.  I’ve been hurting myself and destroying my body and my health since this summer.

I figured plastering my weight gain on my blog would make me feel more accountable to actually do something about it now.  It’s embarrassing to admit I have done this to myself. AGAIN.  But it’s there for everyone to see, on my blog and all over my body.

Time to do something about it.  I feel a bit shell-shocked, putting this mess into black and white, announcing it to the world, but I knew I had to be honest about it to get a grip on it and turn this around.

One of my inspirations is still my oldest stepson.  (Well, all of my stepchildren, but he is the one with us all the time now).  Ever since he moved in with us, his dad and I have been encouraging him to try new things, to move forward, to be patient and keep working toward goals and what he wants in life.  How much of a hypocrite would I be tell him that, then turn around and keep wallowing in bad habits and unhealthy choices, or turning my back on my goals and what I want in life?

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So Graceful!

The other morning, I was running late for work (what else is new?), and as I made a 50-yard dash across the house, I realized I forgot something, turned quickly…and SPLAT!  Rather gracefully, I fell, practically face-planted on the kitchen floor, and managed to bang up a knee as well as my dignity.

My husband helped me up and didn’t even laugh, so gold star to him for that.  He even texted me later to see how my knee was feeling.

Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt at all.  At first.  Later in the afternoon, I stood up from my desk and felt a twinge in my knee.  It’s been mildly sore for a few days now.  Nothing crazy, nothing making me limp or hunt down crutches, just enough to remind me of my klutzy escapade.

Earlier this week, injured knee and all, I went to the gym and hopped onto the treadmill for the first time since before I got sick, so roughly one million years ago (at least that’s how it feels).  Sometime before December, anyway.

I huffed and puffed my way through 2 miles, very slowly, and probably could have just walked faster, but hey, I did it!  It’s a start.

This weekend, it should warm up enough to finally kick out my poor potted plants that have been holed up in our workout room, taking refuge from the cold.  The room looks like a jungle, and there’s no way I have any room to work out in there right now.  So after tomorrow, my workout room should be back to normal, and it’s time to make my workouts a non-negotiable calendar item again!

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