For those of you that read my blog - I am sure you are used to me by now and how my posts normally go. I don't think this is going to be a normal post. While I can't promise not to ramble, I promise not to give every detail of every day since my last post.
One side of me is in a phenomenal place right now. The other side is not. Since the kids have started back to school, I have found it increasingly more difficult to find the time to exercise. I plan to go to the gym. I really do. And then something comes up, and I don't get to go. If it's not one thing, it's another. Soccer practice, piano, doctor appointments, dentist appointments - and everything is always a surprise. It's extremely difficult as we only have one vehicle. Matt used to be able to use his work truck for little trips here and there. But they have changed the rules on that. Now once the truck is home - it's not going anywhere. It's beyond frustrating to plan something all day long, and 5 minutes before you are supposed to do it, it get's tossed out the window. I always thing of the quote "The lack of planning on your part does not constitute an emergency on mine". As a parent - that is not the case. Your kids come first - no matter what. So I have adapted.
I have a new found dedication that surprised even me. I have a contingency plan for days that life gets crazy. I started walking at work. I wear my pedometer every day. If I go outside for my break, I take the stairs. All 10 flights of them. I started parking my car farther away in the garage. Now, I have to climb 3 flights of stairs - just to get to ground level in the parking lot. I walk for 30 minutes every day on my lunch. I try to hit 10k steps each and every day. I have been drinking water like it's my job. So much that I was accused of having an eating disorder AND trying to drown myself. What I don't think some of these people understand is, I'm not drinking any more than I should be. Using the simplest calculation possible - (1/2 of your body weight = how many oz to drink) puts me at almost 110 oz of water per day. Then add in coffee, and exercise, and the number gets higher and higher. And I've met that goal every day. I have logged into MFP everyday. I figured that doing these little things everyday would help on the days when life is too crazy to fit the gym in. At least I did something, right?
With that, came this sense of self confidence. I am starting to feel good in some of the clothes I have. I don't spend my entire time obsessing over the way that I am sitting, or standing, what fat rolls are hanging out where, or what other people are thinking of me. I feel better about myself in front of Matt. Some days I look in the mirror, and I see the progress I have been longing for. Sometimes I put my favorite pair of work pants on, and realize they feel just a bit more loose than they did last time. Then I try to remember if I have already worn them one day, or if they are fresh out of the laundry. Then I realize I am wearing the same pair of pants to work everyday that I was wearing a year ago. And then the sense of failure begins creeping in the back of my head. There has been ZERO change. In a year. And I am ready to quit. Then there is C25k - which has been great in so many ways. But I am beginning to hate it.
Earlier this month, the week of the 5th through the 11th, was supposed to be Week 4 for me. Long story short - It's 4 weeks later, and I am still on Week 5. Don't get me wrong with that statement. I have been running. I have just not made any progress. I did Week 4 a second time, and have spent the last 2 weeks trying to complete Week 5. I have not been successful. At all. I have this weird block on myself that I can't seem to get past. I find that I am giving up on myself when I have barely started. And my fear grows with each workout I attempt and fail. Each time I fail, it proves more and more that I cannot do this. Last night, the crazy schedule creeped up on me again. I had planned on going to the gym, and at the last minute - plans changed. For all of about 3 minutes, I had myself talked out of running at all. But as I was explaining to Matt why I couldn't work out, I noticed I was gathering up my running gear, and getting dressed. I decided to just run at home around the neighborhood. I grabbed Harley and her leash, and before I knew it, I was gone. I was talking to myself. Out Loud. You CAN do this. You CAN do this! I did my warm up walk, and started running. And lasted about 3 minutes. I walked for about 15 seconds, then talked myself into running again. I lasted maybe a minute that time. MAYBE.
I was blaming everything. It's because it's too hot out. It's because Harley keeps running in front of me. It's because my left calf muscle is on FIRE right now. It's because this hill is just too fucking hard. I switched to Day 2 mid-workout. THAT didn't work either. Again, I made it about 3 minutes before I stopped. I sabotaged myself on that one. I was calling myself names. I was a cheater. I was a quitter. I was making excuses. I was lying to myself thinking that I, the Fat Girl, would ever be able to run. I walked home with my dog with tears streaming down my cheeks. I stretched that Left calf muscle out, jumped in the shower, and we were out the door 10 minutes later. I was depressed. I was angry. But most of all, I was disappointed in myself. I was ashamed.
I finally talked to Matt about it last night. He had some really good thoughts that I need to try to keep in mind. He told me that while I may be a failure in my own eyes, I am a success in his. He said that I have defeated myself every run in the last 4 weeks - and I see not being able to complete the runs as failure. But after each failure, I put my shoes back on, and try again the next day. He explained that not being able to finish is not failure. To be beaten 12 times, and to still get back out there every day and try again, is success. To be beaten 12 times, and quit - THAT is failure. He told me that I was an example for him and our kids that if you want something, you don't give up. You keep trying.
I may not be running 20 minutes every day - but I am TRYING to run 20 minutes every day. That in itself is more than I used to do. This is just me. No one else is telling me to do this. No one else is telling me to lose weight, or to go running, or to lift weights. I have made a decision about my life, and I have stuck with it. I am eating better than I ever have. I am more conscious of my health and my body than I ever have been. To do what we do every day takes a lot of physical and mental strength, time, dedication, and discipline.
Each time I take the stairs instead of the elevator is a success.
Each time I grab a piece of fruit, instead of the bag of chips, is a success.
Each time I drink water instead of a Mt. Dew is a success.
Each time I set a goal, and achieve it, is a success.
And each time I put on my running shoes and try again, is a success. Regardless of the outcome.
Love - The Fat Girl
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