Weighing in...

 

While at my parents house after Sunday dinner a few weeks ago, we were getting ready for Willie's seminary graduation in the same way we got ready for stuff when we were kids.  Me, Haley and Willie (and a few of the little chilluns) were sitting on the bed or bench in my parent's room, watching my mom comb her hair and put on her makeup.  Some things never change.  While watching her get ready, I said to my mom and siblings something to the effect of, "Is it okay that lately, I don't feel as fat as I know that I am?"  Willie gave me a look of pure dorkdom and Haley shrugged her shoulders.  About the response I'd expected.

You see, lately I haven't felt like I normally do.  Yes, I still feel stressed and beaten down; over worked and underpaid; lucky to be home with my boys and aching for a little bit of freedom all at the same time.  But, I guess I've felt a little bit lighter on my feet.  Mentally anyway.

In February I joined a gym.  Since then it's been my goal to try and go at least twice a week for an our each time.  You'd think that twice a week would be a piece of cake but, shock, it isn't.  In fact, it's pretty hard and there are a lot of weeks I don't go at all and a lot of weeks where I've gone twice, hoping for a third or fourth and it just doesn't happen.  When you don't leave the house to go and exercise until 9:00 or 9:30 at night, it's hard to find the motivation.  But, I've been trying.

As part of my efforts to get my butt active, I signed up to do a 5k, The Color Run, with my brother in August.  I am not a runner and have no intentions of being a runner.  But, I am competitive (it's genetic) and don't want to look like a fool in front of my very fit brother.  So, running on the treadmill, twice a week, is my new routine.  I'm far from being able to run 3.1 miles, but I have a plan, besides not fainting or throwing up in front of said little brother, I'm giving myself a big window, 2.75 months to get ready.  And, I'm making progress.  Four weeks ago, I could not run a mile on a treadmill.  In fact, I could walk a mile faster than I could walk/trot a mile.  How pathetic is that?

But, on Tuesday this week, I set my best time.  I ran a mile in 13:13.  Yes, as my brother would say, it's as pathetic as a 7th grade gym class, but it's a start.  And, I can run (slowly) on a treadmill for thirty straight minutes, getting myself to a whopping 2.1 miles - one mile away from a 5k.

Progress.  It's slow, but it's progress.

My efforts are also two part - one, be able to actually run the 5k.  Two, tighten myself up.  Long gone are the days where I think about being skinny or cute...now are the days to be healthy and fit.  Very different goals.  Part of that though, is to lose weight, if I were to be so lucky.  It's not a must, but it's an added benefit of my exercise attempts.

The last four weeks I've really made an effort - eating less sugar and bread, minimal treats and as little eating out as possible.  That, with the sweatier efforts at the gym (30 minutes on the treadmill and 20 on weights), I've started to see a change.  Not as much sag and jiggle.  Not as much moping and pouting.  But, I hadn't really been friends with the scale.

I know what I weigh.  I know what I used to weigh.  I know that since Quinn was born, once I hit 6 weeks postpartum, I'd lost all but about 12 of the pounds that I gained in 38 weeks, but that even if I lost those 12, I'm still far from a weight I want to weigh.

Anyway -this is getting so long now, isn't it.

Point is, I got on the scale this week.  It said that in the last four weeks I lost 6 pounds.

What?

Stop the train!

Yeah!

The next day I went to my diabetes doctor.  I was down even one more pound on her scale.

Can you say seven pounds lost in four weeks?

I can.

I was so happy.

And, for the first time in a long time, my diabetes feels "under control."  Ahhhhh, so nice to say that.  It seems that it's so under control that I don't have to go back for 6 months, instead of the usual three.  Even better.

SO, to sum it all up?

I do not like to exercise but I like the way I feel after I exercise.

I do not like to run, but I like feeling like I accomplished something and am one step closer to not having my little brother run circles around me on August 24th.

I do not like to get on a scale, but feel so great that the little big of effort I've made so far has been rewarded.

I do like rewards.

The end and amen!