Blogging for me used to be all about physical fitness and weight loss. It was a way to bond with other girls my age over our eating disorders and to help us keep track of our numbers. Although this probably sounds terrible now, at the time it really meant so much to me. I felt like I was a part of something bigger than myself. It meant I wasn’t alone. And although I am lightyears away from those days one thing will never change, it will always feel good to be a part of something. I never knew until recently that the gym could be that for me now. I have been running since I was fifteen years old and for years I went 4-5 times every week, miles and miles at a clip. With my dogs, with my kids in strollers and always outside down sidewalks or trails. I love the fresh air in my lungs, the warm sun on my face. It’s a part of me that I never wanted to give up. But, in the past two years since my son was born I lost site of that and stopped running. And oddly enough it never really clicked how bad my depression was without it.
Over the winter my husband joined a gym. He got dragged into it by a co-worker who kept begging the guys in his store to join because he didn’t want to go alone. They went together once. Then my husband begged me to join so he wouldn’t have to go alone. Do you see a trend here? So we went together faithfully twice a week for a few months until the deep winter took us all down. Colds after bronchitis after strep throat and pink eye. It seemed like the sickness would never end. But do you know what did end? Our commitment to the gym. It went down in a fiery abyss. By the time we finally got our butts back in gear to go, my brother in law who had been staying with us while he house hunted, found a house and moved out. No more morning babysitter. No more gym.
More time went on and our memberships sat untouched. What a waste of money!!!!! Ugh and to think you have to cut your own arm off to get out of these things. I was still my skinny little 123 pound self stuck on the magic of the most consistent lowest weight I have ever held possibly my entire life. An entire year of feeling blissfully thin with seemingly no end in sight. That was until about a month ago when out of nowhere some period bloat turned into weeks of turmoil and scale avoidance which inevitably ended my amazingly long streak of “luck”. I call it luck because I wasn’t exercising to hold that weight. I was drinking all the time. I wasn’t eating my healthiest. I wasn’t practicing yoga or meditation, I wasn’t lifting weights. I had a super active summer which thanks to my Fitbit I know that meant averaging about 14K daily steps and I breastfed my son until he was 19 months (he’s 26 months now). That was pretty much it. Somehow that was enough to get me down to that weight which I held up until about a month ago.
Three weeks ago I told myself I needed to make a change with my life. I need my weight back. I NEED IT like I need air. I need a schedule, I need structure, I need to be a better parent and wife. I need my house to be cleaner and more organized, I need to be a better person. I need all the fucked up shit to be not fucked up anymore. Present. I need for the love of everything holy to be more present. No more looking at Facebook during the kids bath times, that sort of thing. I need to FOCUS ON ONE THING AT A TIME!!!! I thought a good place to start all this life changing would be at the gym so, back I went. Four times a week. With the exception of the weight training I did that left me incapacitated for the later half of last week, today was the start of week four. And you know what? I feel good. I feel stronger and tighter. My clothes are fitting better. BUT… have I lost any weight? NO
like really what in the literal fuck
Have I been eating cleaner? Yes. Have I been sleeping better, more hours, better quality of sleep? Yes. Have I been drinking less? Considerably. Have I been snacking? No. Have I been getting all my steps in? My average is back up to 14K a day.
It is easy to get frustrating and just want to throw in the towel. But I won’t. Running is so much more beneficial to my mental health than it is to my physical appearance anyway. My body is so used to pushing myself to run long distances, super fast sprints, etc. that I am really not seeing much of a challenge with it. So I started to incorporate a weight training routine with squats, lunges, burpees that sort of thing last week which totally kicked my ass. I mean wrecked me for days. I honestly couldn’t even believe that I was so sore because it didn’t seem like shit compared to the way I run but WOW was I wrong. Just using those muscles in a different way then they have become accustom to made all the difference. Still no change on the scale today but I am going to start using the “Lose it” app again (like old times!) to see if I can finally break through this plateau.
Well if you are interested in kicking your own ass… Heres my killer routine! (I got it from the FitBod app)