A Little of This, A Little of That

I'm quite proud of myself this morning.  I got up, dusted off the treadmill, and did a little walking.  Not just that, but I also dusted off my stair stepper and did a few minutes jogging on that.  Wasn't anything too major - sweat isn't pouring off of me - but it's something. 

The last couple of days, well weeks, I've struggled - there's something you haven't heard before **insert sarcasm**.  I've struggled with making myself work-out.  I've struggled with eating.  I've struggled with finding the motivation to be good at both. 

Last night, I bumped into an old friend at Wal-Mart.  I haven't seen her in quite a while.  She was totally shocked when she saw me.  It was great seeing her expression, and I felt really good hearing "wow, you look amazing" then she added something "you can definitely see how hard you're working".  DOH!!  When she threw in the last statement, the sizzle of guilt bolted through my system.  I hummed around about how I'm not doing as much as I was because of work, and all that jazz - but inside I knew that I was lying to her and myself.  I've not been doing as much, because I haven't been doing as much - period!  I'm in my groove now at work, there is no more being able to use that as an excuse. 

I keep making these goals for myself - like I'm going to be in a size 14 by Thanksgiving, and I'm going to work out twice a day up until my BL final weigh-in...and then I don't work-out once...not once after making that goal - until this morning.  I'm tired of trying to find reasons why I don't have my heart in it anymore.  Six months ago, I lived and breathed "healthy living".  You couldn't keep me away from the track to run, going to boot camp, eating healthy - now I just can't get myself to do it. 

I know that it's really bad when I walk out of work on a nice, chilly day and think "wow, what a perfect day for a run" then hop in my car and drive home.  WTF?  I can tell myself that I should be running, but making my body cooperative with my brain I can't do. 

On January, 17th of this year - I set myself a goal.  That goal was to lose 100lbs in a year.  Nine months later, and I've lost 60.  Not exactly what I had envisioned - but the most weight I've lost at one time EVER.  I am very proud of my accomplishments - I just don't understand why I've reached this plateau.  I don't feel like I'm ready to give up - but it's kind of how I've been acting.  I keep telling myself that I want to keep pushing, keep fighting, keep losing - yet I sit on the couch or at my desk night after night. 

Before I went to bed last night, I watched this week's episode of Biggest Loser.  I've become a little teary eyed during several episodes - but it's usually because of someone talking about their struggles or their accomplishments.  Last night, I got misty because I thought "why don't I have that motivation anymore?"  Then I told myself "I WILL work-out when I get up in the morning".  I set my alarm and went to sleep. 

Alarm went off this morning, I hit snooze.  Then as if I'd been poked in the ribs by a supernatural force, I jumped up "I am going to work out this morning!!!"  Even after I got my work-out clothes on, and got my treadmill set up, I still had to force myself to get on it.   I'm walking away at a measly 2.0 speed.  I think "I'll do 5 minutes" - then the poke hit me again "move that speed up!"  So I went up to 3.0.  My feet started to hurt, so I told myself I'd had enough...."don't you quit!"  I ended up doing 15 minutes.  Not great - but my feet were really hurting by then.  Then I hopped off and jumped on the stair climber.  I started walking on it as if I was walking up a flight of stairs with two bags of groceries...one....two....three....four.  Then I realized that I wasn't really doing much.  One..two..three..four.  I could still do more.  One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.....I was going at a good jog.  It's weird, but I actually did more on the stair stepper than I did on the treadmill.  I think it's because I don't like the treadmill anymore.  It was kind of a wake-up call.  If I don't like the treadmill - then maybe I should be making myself go to the track. 

I have to say, I feel pretty good now.  Again, a whopping 20 minute work-out isn't anything to brag about - but I didn't stay in bed.  I didn't give up after 5 minutes like my body wanted to.  I didn't let myself walk on the stair stepper like I was ticked off because the elevator was broken.  Is this something I could do every morning?  I think so.  Is it enough?  No.  But if I did a little 20-30 minute work-out in the morning, and then MADE myself go to the track and run every day after work...I might find my groove somewhere along the way.  It's a process - I made the first step this morning (no pun intended). 

Everyone keep your fingers crossed that I can find my mo-jo again.  It's been lost, now, for far too long.  I want to be the powerhouse of a person that was kicking ass and taking names when it came to working hard.  Oh, and...

Dear Brain: 
You control my body, so please do something to take power back.  I know that you are a "visual learner" so I type this for you to read.  My body has been on strike now for far too long.  I'm not sure what the demands are behind the strike - but whatever they are:  BE STRONG!! You are in charge for a reason, don't let my limbs be the boss. 
Thanks, Joanna

PNOTD:

"Mind over matter.  Translation:  It does matter if I don't feel like doing it, because I set my mind to do it for a reason."

Till next time.  ;)